


Until You're Resting Here With Me

by nyxocity



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M, Romance, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-24
Updated: 2012-03-24
Packaged: 2017-11-02 11:45:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 63,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/368660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nyxocity/pseuds/nyxocity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Accidentally trapped traveling through time through a project of his own design, Dr. Jensen Ackles finally finds himself twelve years in the past, in his own body, face to face with Jared Padalecki. His memory shot through with holes from time traveling, Jensen doesn't remember exactly what happened between them in the past, but he knows how he feels about Jared, and he knows things ended badly. Given a chance to do it right this time, can he change history—or does destiny have bigger plans? (Story premise based on the TV series <i>Quantum Leap</i>)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is not a hi-tech or even very scientific story. There's very little focus on the technical aspects of time travel. This is a J2 romance story all the way around.

  


**PROLOGUE**

Throwing everything out on the table, I hadn’t actually planned on traveling endlessly through time; it was one of those things that just sort of happened after five years spent developing a program and the machinery required to propel someone through time—one of those things that just “sort of happened” when the government decided to cut funding for the project just as it was finally on the cusp of success. 

 

\---

 

_2020_

“They can’t do this, Chad,” Jensen hisses, throwing the paperwork down on the table. “Not now. We’re so close.”

“I know.” Chad’s face is tired and resigned, and Jensen can barely stand to see it. Five years—sweat and blood, body and soul poured into this project. And now he’s supposed to tell everyone it’s over? Start shutting everything down and cleaning everything up?

He can’t let this happen. 

With that, he makes his decision, yanking out of his lab coat and throwing it down as he walks to the accelerator room.

“Jensen?” Chad’s right behind him, running to catch up. “What the fuck are you doing, dude?”

“I’m getting in the accelerator,” he tells Chad in no uncertain terms, ripping his shirt over his head as he strides down the hallway.

“No, no, no.” Chad’s beside him in a second, yanking Jensen by the elbow. “We haven’t tested it, yet, Jen. You could die in there.”

Jensen doesn’t slow, fingers falling to the button on his pants and undoing it. “It’s either this or we let the _project_ die, Chad. Five years, living and breathing it… Is that what you want?”

He doesn’t need to see Chad’s face to know how it falls. “No. But, man… Much as I hate to admit it, I’m not too fond of the idea of watching you die, either.”

If it were any other time, Jensen would be touched.

They’re inside the control center now, and Jensen walks to the console, fingers running through the sequence of buttons. The room lights up, rush of brilliant blue-white light erupting in a rush from the center.

“Jensen. Dude.” Chad’s grip on his arm is a warning, fingers crushing around the bone. “I can’t let you do this--”

Jensen spins on him, fist catching Chad just under the jaw, hands grabbing him by the waist before he can fall and lowering him to the floor. He looks down at Chad’s closed eyes and shakes his head.

“See you on the other side.”

He tugs off his shoes and socks, pants and boxers peeled away and discarded next to Chad’s unconscious body. He’s completely naked when he steps into the accelerator, light and heat rising like steam, caressing his skin. He tips his head back and shuts his eyes, feeling it wash over him, and the light answers, shining so bright for an instant that it pierces through the thin cover of his eyelids, filling his mind and sweeping through his blood.

Light surges from his body, bright as a supernova, and he can feel the way his body begins to break apart, molecules dispersing into light waves.

It happens in seconds, and when it’s finished, the light recedes abruptly, drawn back into the floor. 

The accelerator chamber stands as empty as if Jensen had never existed.

\---

 

Over the course of history, there have been a _lot_ of theories on the nature of time travel, and mine was this:

The lifetime of a single person begins with birth and ends with death. One is only given so much, allowed to experience so much, and one cannot exist beyond those inevitable boundaries of time. Therefore, if one were to travel _within_ time, one must adhere to those same rules. One cannot exist before or beyond the time that one is allotted, those rules are absolute, and therefore, one must travel within that time span.

Given that… if the life of a person were measured in a length of string, one end would represent birth, and the other would represent death. But if one were to tie the two ends together, it would create a loop—and if one then crumpled the string into a ball, every single moment of one’s life would be touching at some point. Therefore, jumping from one moment in the string to another would allow one to travel back and forth within one’s own lifetime. This is called a “quantum leap”. How that translates into quantum physics is another, much longer story, but one does not need to see the math involved to understand how it all shakes out. 

I believed that time travel within one’s own life span was possible. 

\---

 

_1982_

 

He blinks awake to early morning sunlight, rubbing a hand across his face. He’s lying in a bed, and he’s not sure how he got here—or where he is.

The bedroom is wallpapered in light tan, bonneted ducks tromping happily through its expanse, country blue accents dancing around them. There’s an old-fashioned-looking dark wooden dresser set against the far wall, framed mirror rising from its breadth.

He takes a quick breath and pushes up from the mattress, realizing as the sheets fall away that he’s completely naked. That must mean he’s comfortable here—wherever _here_ is. The thought vaguely assuages his concern as he walks towards the dresser.

He stops, staring, mouth snapping shut.

The face in the mirror is ruggedly handsome, broad forehead descending to wide cheekbones that taper to a slim, almost perfectly pointed chin. Wide, dark brown eyes stare back at him, thick line of eyebrows rising high above them, and his hair is even darker—almost black, cropped short on the sides, top slightly longer, locks tousled backwards messily.

He stares, slowly raising a hand to touch the mirror. His reflection moves with him, touching the surface at the same time, and there’s no doubt; that’s him. That’s his reflection.

But the face in the mirror _isn’t his_.

He stumbles backward, staggering before the backs of his knees hit the bed and he falls against it.

_Okay. Okay. Wait._

“Honey?” The voice is fuzzy with sleep and decidedly feminine, coming from somewhere behind him, and he startles at the sound, spinning off the bed and falling on his knees beside it.

“You okay?” the woman asks as she rouses from the pillow, chestnut hair falling long around her shoulders down to her chest—her very naked shoulders and chest. She’s pretty, and blinking at him with sleepy concern. 

“I’m…” he starts to say, and then has no clue how to finish that sentence. “Who are you?” he asks instead, tugging the sheet slightly off the bed and pressing it against his groin.

The woman just stares at him for a second, and then she shakes her head. “Oh, for God’s sake, Gerry. Joking already? You haven’t even had your coffee yet,” she laments, throwing back the covers. 

He averts his eyes quickly, trying desperately to remember something. _Anything_. He can hear her get to her feet and pull on some kind of clothing.

“You want eggs for breakfast?” the woman asks, and he looks up as she turns toward him. It’s only then that he sees her very, _very_ pregnant belly.

“Oh boy,” he breathes.

“Gerry?” she asks. 

Gerry? Is that his name? It doesn’t feel right.

“Um. Sure,” he says. For now, at least, she seems to think he’s someone named Gerry and that he belongs here. If she goes to make breakfast he can put some clothes on and then maybe figure out where the hell he is.

She spares another look at him crouched on the floor and shakes her head. “And no jokes when you come downstairs,” she chastises softly, giving him a look caught somewhere between affection and endurance. 

She walks from the room, one hand pressed against the small of her back as she goes, and shuts the door behind her.

He sighs with relief and rises to his feet. There’s an open closet to his right , dresses and house gowns on wire hangers filling it to the brim, and to his left, a long dresser that bears, thankfully, men’s clothing. He turns to inspect his reflection in the full length mirror in the corner, and is startled for an instant by the unfamiliar, handsome face looking back at him.

He squints at the man, and the man squints back. “Who are you?” he wonders aloud, their hands rising in unison to touch the cool glass.

“He’s you,” someone says from behind him, and Jensen spins around, almost falling over.

“More accurately,” the guy standing there says, “you’re him.” The guy is about six feet tall with dirty-blond hair shaved close against his skull, blue eyes focused on a device held in his right palm. There’s a lit cigarette jutting from his mouth and he’s dressed in a… white and black zebra striped suit complemented by an obnoxious purple tie? 

“Wow,” the guy says looking around. “I kind of thought you’d end up somewhere more exciting. I mean, time travel, right? The brochure looks way more exciting than this.” The guy gestures at the wallpaper and takes a long drag off his cigarette. “Kind of reminds me of this place I woke up in one time, back when I was running with the traveling circus. We were in bumfuck nowhere, and I wake up next to this girl—didn’t even know her name, but man, she had the biggest pair of…” the guy gestures at the air in front of him wistfully. 

This has got to be some kind of dream. Either that or he’s losing his mind. Whoever he is. He reaches out, unable to help himself, needing to know if any of this is real… and his hand goes right through the guy’s chest.

“I’m insane,” he whispers.

“I’ve been saying that for years,” the guy replies with a wry shake of his head.

“Who _are_ you?” 

The guy’s eyes narrow on him suddenly, mouth tightening around the filter of his cigarette. “You don’t recognize me?”

He shakes his head, wondering if he should. “All I know is, I woke up here next to a very pregnant woman I don’t remember going to sleep with.”

The guy cranes his neck back and forth, like he’s trying to see her. “Was she hot? Because dude, pregnant chicks, they’ve got it _so_ bad. They’re like, sex-crazy.”

“Am I dreaming?” he asks.

The guy finally focuses on him, head tilting to the side. “You don’t remember anything, do you?”

His frown deepens, mind churning for any sense of recognition, and then he shakes his head.

The guy shakes his head slowly, and then takes a deep drag of his cigarette, exhaling as he speaks. “Your name is Jensen. Dr. Jensen Ackles, to be specific, and you’re in charge of a time-travel project called Quantum Leap in the year two-thousand-twenty. Until now, nobody knew if it would work. Gold star for you, bunky—you’ve just traveled back in time, to…” the guy checks his palm again quickly, “nineteen eighty-two.”

Jensen. That sounds familiar… sounds… right. But the rest of it…

“Bet you really think you’re crazy now, huh?” the guy grins around his cigarette filter. “I’m Chad, by the way, your partner on the project.” He sticks his hand out and Jensen reaches forward on autopilot to shake it—hand passing right through Chad’s.

“ _Dude_ ,” Chad says, rolling his eyes. “I can’t believe you fell for that.”

“Okay, so let’s do this quick.” Chad shoves the device into his pocket, plucks the cigarette from between his lips, and begins to explain with his hands moving almost as rapidly as his mouth. 

“The reason you can’t touch me is because I’m not actually here. I’m still in twenty-twenty in a room we call the imaging chamber. The way it works is this; our brainwaves have been synched so that when I’m in this room you’ll see a hologram image of me. That way I can be around to help you out. Well, sort of,” Chad adds, gesturing with the hand holding his cigarette, fingers passing through one of the foot posts rising up from the bed.

Jensen—that’s who he is, he’s sure of it now—wonders how _Chad_ can see the bed post. Of course, wondering that is falling on the side of believing any of this is actually happening.

“Oh, and by the way? My jaw still hurts from the last time you _could_ touch me,” Chad informs him, indignant. “The project was getting ready to be shut down, so you--”

“I hit you,” Jensen interjects, brief memory flashing through his mind.

“Oh, sure,” Chad mutters. “ _That_ you remember.”

It’s starting to come back to Jensen, slowly, memories bleeding in to fill the empty spaces in his mind. “I hit you because I was... you were trying to stop me… from going inside the accelerator.” Jensen finishes the sentence slowly, remembering a flash of bright light. “Before we tested it. But… it… it worked.” Satisfaction and awe collide inside him and he stares at Chad, feeling almost delirious. “I leaped through time.”

“I know, right?” Chad shoots him a smile that borders on proud. “We actually fucking did it. But don’t go popping the champagne yet, sweetheart. We’ve got a problem back at ground control.”

“Gerry?” It’s the pregnant woman’s voice, calling him from downstairs. “Coffee’s ready.”

Jensen’s about to ask Chad “what?” when Chad goes hazy around the edges, form flickering. For a split second, Jensen can see the pattern of the ducks on the wall paper through his zebra-striped suit. The effect is dizzying.

“Great,” Chad sighs, shaking his head. Cigarette clenched between his lips, he punches the screen of the device with a fingertip, glaring at it. “Misha? You wanna tell me what the hell is going on here?”

“Goddammit, Misha,” Chad hisses, jabbing at the screen. When that doesn’t work, he hits it sideways with the heel of his other hand and the device makes a high pitched squeal that sounds like the electronic equivalent of tires spinning in mud. His form flickers like static cutting through a TV screen as he shakes his head and looks at Jensen. “I’ll be back. I’m gonna go see if I can help fix this.”

Chad jabs the screen one last time and a square of light rises from the floor, stretching upward into a flat rectangle of light. Chad steps into the whiteness and the doorway vanishes.

“Who’s Misha?” Jensen asks the empty room.

*

Downstairs, in the kitchen, there’s a cross-stitch framed and hanging on one sunny yellow wall. There are sunflowers represented carefully in varying shades of lemon and gold and brown and tan, green leaves curling from beneath the petals. On the counter below the picture, there’s a stack of envelopes, and it’s these Jensen walks to, reaches for first.

He shuffles through them briefly, and they all read some form of Gerald and/or Sherri at an address in Bigfoot, Texas. He’s pretty sure this woman thinks he’s Gerald—or Gerry, as the nickname goes--and reasonably sure that she’s Sherri.

Only one way to find out.

“Sherri,” he murmurs, like he _could_ just be reading.

“Yeah?” she answers immediately, turning from the stove. “Honey, what’re you doing looking through the mail right now for heaven’s sake? Sit down. The eggs are almost ready.”

His eyes travel over the last name printed on the envelope, echoing in his mind, the strange sound of it filling him for a moment—and then Jensen re-stacks the mail hastily and turns. 

There’s a small, round wooden table in the kitchen, a cup of coffee sitting on a saucer at one of the place settings, morning paper laid out next to the sugar and cream, spoon framing the other side. Through the window next to the table, all he can see is a clear blue sky and brown dirt, a few trees dotting the landscape. Sunlight glints off the window of a car half a mile away, passing by smoothly at an angle perpendicular to where he’s standing.

The landscape evokes a sense of nostalgia in him, though he doesn’t understand it. It feels… familiar, somehow. Like being home.

Maybe he used to live somewhere similar. It doesn’t really matter. All that matters is the way it slots into place.

He sits down at the table, smile curling the edges of his mouth.

The date on the paper reads 1982—four years after Jensen was born. He runs a finger along the date in wonder, and then Sherri’s there with a plate in one hand. She sets it down in front of him, and Jensen watches her move as she walks back to the stove. She really is beautiful. She scrapes scrambled eggs onto his plate with a cute smile, hair brushing against his cheek. He catches her glance sideways across the spatula and smiles back. 

“You,” she says, and kisses him right on the end of his nose.

It’s not the worst place he could be. If he had to think of all the places he could be in time—and he has been—this one’s not rating too badly.

They settle into place on opposite sides of the table, and Jensen eats, pushing forkfuls of egg into his mouth. God, she used real butter, sweet, salty thickness permeating his senses through the fluff of eggs.

“You’re quiet,” Sherri says across the tines of her uplifted fork.

“Just… thinking,” he answers.

“I was thinking, too.” Sherri sets her fork down, and leans across the table, folding her arms against the edge. She bites down on her lower lip, shifting her weight back and forth between her elbows, rising up from between them. “I was thinking… after the baby’s born, we should move into the city.”

Jensen opens his mouth, and she cuts him off.

“It’ll be good for us, Ger. For the baby. I could…” she lets the words hang there for a moment, uncertain, and then her face resolves. “I could… get a job.”

She looks so determined, and Jensen tilts his head to the side, wondering.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she admonishes him, throwing a hand in his direction. “I’ve always been good with numbers—you _know_ I am.”

For a long moment, Jensen’s perplexed. He’s not sure why this would be an issue. What is he missing here?

“I…” he begins, trying to find a starting place. “I know you are,” he assures her. He doesn’t even know what the problem is, much less what Gerry might say.

“But?” she asks, hands falling to her sides as she sits back. Her eyes are fierce, staring at him down the fine line of her nose, chin jutting out defiantly.

“But…” he echoes, shaking his head, resolving. It doesn’t matter what Gerry would say; he can’t tell her anything else. 

“But, nothing. I think you’d be great at it,” he tells her, meeting her eyes. He’s not sure how much to say right now; he could end up changing something he’s not supposed to. “Look. Um… we’ll talk about it more, okay? After the baby comes.”

“Gerald.” She utters the name like it’s the best profanity she’s ever spoken, staring right at him. “If I wasn’t nine months pregnant right now… I swear.”

She looks like she… might do whatever she just swore she wouldn’t, and Jensen is strongly reminded that he isn’t actually her husband.

“I’ll be right back,” he tells her.

*

He doesn’t even know where the bathroom is, but he finds it quickly enough. He’s just about to unzip his pants when Chad walks through the wall to his left, still wearing the same crazy suit.

Jensen’s hands fall from his zipper and he sucks in a sudden breath. “Dammit, Chad.”

Chad ignores him, fingertip sliding over the screen of the device in his right hand. “Misha cut the power to the imaging chamber. That’s why I was having ‘technical difficulties’.” 

“Misha?” Jensen echoes, perplexed.

“Yeah, Misha. Hey,” Chad says off the look on Jensen’s face. “ _You_ named him, don’t go blaming me.” 

Jensen blinks, shaking his head. “I named him?” 

Chad makes an impatient motion with his hands. “Yeah. Because he’s the AI computer program _you_ wrote. You know, the one that helps run the whole program?” 

Chad waits expectantly, and when Jensen doesn’t respond, he shrugs and waves a hand through the air. “Anyway, you wrote him—he’s you. You’ve got six PhD’s, Jensen. If anyone can get you back, it’s him. He’s been shutting down _all_ the systems to get extra power, trying to figure out how to retrieve you.”

“Retrieve me?” Jensen asks, feeling a thin spark of hope. “You can bring me back?”

“Remember when I said we had a little problem back at ground control? That’s it. We _should_ be able to bring you back whenever we want. But it’s just… not happening. Nobody knows why. We’re not running things anymore… current theories for powers in charge include God, time and fate,” Chad shrugs, shaking his head. 

“Samantha’s got this theory that since you started the project hoping to help people, and something else is taking charge, that maybe you _have_ to do something here before you can leap back home.” 

“Do something?” Jensen asks, frowning.

“You know,” Chad flings his hand backward. “Fix things that went wrong once upon a time. ‘Here I come to save the day’, and all that.”

Jensen thinks about that for a moment. 

“This ain’t an episode of _Touched by an Angel_ , I’m just sayin’.” Chad accentuates the statement by tugging at his purple tie.

Jensen just looks at him. “Tell me again why I picked _you_ as my partner in this venture?”

Chad tilts his head back, eyes squinting at Jensen, and then he throws his head to one side, shoulders leaning back as his hands fall to present himself in all his zebra-skin-patterned glory. 

“Because I’m fucking awesome,” he shrugs. “Why else?”

Jensen stares at him, unconvinced.

“You love me, bitch.” Chad delivers the words with a wink and a kiss blown from his lips. “You just don’t remember.”

Jensen is so not dealing with that right now. 

“So what do you know for sure?” Jensen asks, frustrated.

Chad considers, shoulders shifting before he shrugs. “We know your memory is fried, and we think it’s from traveling through time. We know we’ve got the real Gerry back home in the waiting room—and man, is _he_ ever freaked out; he thinks he’s been abducted by aliens.” Chad shakes his head, smirking. 

“Wait. You’ve got the real Gerry in 2020?” Jensen stands there, astounded. “How? Why?”

Chad heaves a sigh. “Okay, listen up. In your own words, ‘when traveling through time, one cannot exist where nothing existed before, therefore, there must be an exchange, one body for another’. In human-speak, that means you’re occupying Gerry’s space right now. Meanwhile, Gerry’s occupying your space in the future.”

Oh. That… makes total and complete sense. Of course one person would have to be exchanged for another. The danger of paradox wouldn’t allow for anything else.

“The second he changed places with you,” Chad goes on, “the technology you created read his DNA and replicated his image around you, so you’d look like him. That way, no one around you notices the change.”

That’s… really kind of brilliant.

“You can stop being impressed with yourself _any_ time now,” Chad tells him, rolling his eyes to the side.

“I wasn’t,” Jensen says defensively, glaring at him. 

Chad’s expression could be described as skeptical—if it wasn’t so blatantly screaming ‘what the fuck ever’. 

“Wait,” Jensen stops, suddenly curious. “So who do I look like to you?”

“Like the same motherfucker I’ve been looking at for the last seventeen years,” Chad replies, and the level of comfort Jensen feels is immeasurable.

At least someone can see his real face. At least _someone_ knows who he really is. And… even if it’s _this_ guy, that’s better than nothing.

“So, anyway,” Chad says. “Look, I’m only back because Misha decided that Samantha's theory about you saving the world might be right, and he wanted me to let you know that he’s gathering every bit of data on the situation that he can. Meanwhile, I’ve got a Scandinavian cutie waiting for me to take her to a party. Man, you should see this girl, Jen. She’s got--”

“A date?” Jensen asks, flatly, disbelieving. “You’re going on a date?”

“I’m gonna be late.” Chad waves goodbye, doorway rising behind him. “See ya, Jen.” 

Chad steps inside and is gone before Jensen can move.

“Honey.” Sherri’s calling him from the kitchen. “You’d better hurry up. John’s gonna be here any minute.”

“Well, can’t disappoint John,” he mutters, flushing the toilet.

*

John turns out to be his ride to work. They both work for a company producing oil from a nearby rig—a gig they apparently do six days a week, since today is a Saturday. The work is hard, and it’s mid-summer in Texas, but Jensen manages to get through it. Around lunch time, watching a farmer in a field of cows in the distance, he gets back the memory that he’d grown up on a farm himself. The memory carries him through the rest of the afternoon, and he smiles through most of it, even though he’s sore, covered in sweat and smeared with dirt by the end of the day. 

When he gets home, Sherri’s waiting with dinner on the table. Afterward, they sit in front of the TV and watch sitcoms, Sherri cuddled up against his side and sharing a bowl of ice cream with him.

And it’s weird, being here, but every now and then, Sherri smiles at him, and he feels a little bit better.

*

Jensen’s just settling into bed, dressed in a pair of pajama pants he found in the drawer.

“You’re wearing clothes?” she asks, frowning at him.

“Just… um… I got a little cold last night.”

“You’re adorable.” She bends, leaning in, eyes closing.

Jensen takes a deep breath, debating for a moment before he inches his jaw up toward hers. Their mouths meet in a brief, warm kiss, and Jensen’s suddenly quite sure that women aren’t his usual preferred company. It’s not bad though; she’s sweet and tender, and she obviously loves him—Gerry, anyway. 

Sherri pulls back and smiles, and a low whistle sounds from Jensen’s right. 

“Never thought I’d see the day,” Chad says.

Jensen turns his head and stares.

“Baby’s kicking,” Sherri says, standing straight. She pulls Jensen’s hand with hers, settling his palm against the round of her belly.

“He’s—um.” Jensen gestures at Chad wildly with his free hand. He _wants_ to explain, he really does, but how do you explain this level of crazy?

“He?” Sherri laughs. “You think it’s a boy?”

“She can’t see me,” Chad tells him. “Wired to _your_ brainwaves, remember?”

Oh.

“I, um,” Jensen stutters, looking at Sherri. 

“It’s a boy,” Chad confirms, device beeping.

Beneath Jensen’s palm, there’s a sudden jolt that surprises him, and Sherri locks eyes with him, so affectionate and proud that he can’t help smiling back. 

“Yeah,” he nods, and his smile grows wider, warmer. “I think so.”

Sherri makes a thoughtful, humming sound, smiling back before she looks down at her hand clasped over Jensen’s.

“But you’re—Gerry’s—not gonna be around to see him,” Chad continues, sounding somber.

Jensen draws up short at Chad’s tone, turning his head. Chad’s brows draw together in a frown as he looks at Jensen. 

“There’s a tornado that rips through here tomorrow. Gerry dies in it.”

The words hit Jensen in the stomach like a fist.

Jensen stands up from the bed before he knows what he’s doing. “I, uh, have to…” he doesn’t even know where the bathroom is on this level, but he hopes his gesture toward the hallway is in the general direction.

“Well… hurry up.” Sherri swats him on the hip, grinning.

*

It takes Jensen a moment to find the bathroom, down the hallway and around the corner that leads to the stairs, and when he finally does, he shuts the door behind him quickly.

“Chad,” he hisses under his breath.

“I’m here. Jesus, don’t get your panties in an uproar.” Chad’s glaring at him, dressed in a bright red suit that’s doing nothing for his complexion, white shirt buttoned up beneath, metallic, dark blue tie pulled down the center. He’s wearing a pair of matching metallic blue loafers.

“Is it the fourth of July where you are?” Jensen asks, bewildered.

Chad looks at him like he’s out of his mind. “What are you talking about? It’s September.” Chad shakes his head like Jensen’s hopeless.

“Okay,” Jensen breathes, grinding his teeth together. “Whatever. Just tell me what the hell is going on.”

“Look, dude, I don’t make the data, I just report it. There’s a tornado tomorrow, and Gerry--” Chad’s frown recedes, and his voice is decidedly less annoyed when he finishes, almost chagrined. “You, die in it.”

“I’m… I’m going to die?”

Chad presses his lips together, looking down at the screen in his hand. “Unless you can stop it from happening.”

“How does it happen?” Jensen asks, mind racing.

But Chad isn’t listening. “Man, I can’t even _believe_ this. It’s like, even if Samantha’s wrong, she’s right. We have to make sure you live, and that means making sure Gerry lives. We’re totally pulling some kind of retroactive super hero action here.”

Jensen rolls his eyes. “Tell me. What happens.”

“Oh, right.” Chad clears his throat, looking down at the device, his expression sobering. “Tomorrow afternoon, just before the tornado hits, Sherri goes into labor, and you—Gerry, decides to go for help,” Chad’s gesturing broadly with his left hand. “He gets caught by the tornado on the main road… and that’s…” Chad presses his lips together, hand falling to his side. “That’s how you die.”

“So if I’m still Gerry when this happens, I’m going to die?”

Chad nods. “That’s how it happens in the original history.”

“But I can change it?”

“Since you’re Gerry… yeah, we think so. And Misha and Samantha think that’s _why_ you’re here. To save him.”

“You don’t agree?”

“Look. Jen. Whatever’s running this situation now… God, time, fate… it’s not us. We’ve done everything we can, and we can’t get you back. All we can do is hang on and hope you leap home when it’s over. If this works, we can save you, and we can save Gerry, too. That all works out in the plus column.”

Jensen hasn’t been here very long, but he’s already pretty fond of Sherri, and he’s feeling a strange attachment to the baby in her stomach that’s… sort of unsettling, now that he thinks about it. Whatever the case, he doesn’t want anything bad to happen to either of them. Losing Gerry would devastate Sherri, and leave the baby to grow up without a father…

The thought hangs there for a long moment, tugging at his memory. There’s something about this whole thing that’s working under Jensen’s skin, belly clenching tight with dread.

“There’s something weird about this situation…” Jensen trails off, squinting as he tries to focus. He can almost remember something, trailing at the edges of his awareness like smoke. “It’s not just that I’m going to be a dad…”

“Jensen,” Chad says, face contracting into the most serious expression Jensen’s seen on it yet. “You’re not going to be a father. Gerry is. Tomorrow, the tornado hits at 1:03PM. You have to save Gerry—save yourself.”

Chad’s right. He can’t let Gerry die. He can’t let the father of this baby die, because…

“Jensen?”

The memory rushes him, almost bowling him over. He’d been out milking the cows when he’d heard his father yell. Jensen had run as fast as he could, but it wasn’t fast enough; his father had been lying slumped over on the lawn mower, engine still chugging as it drove aimlessly across the front lawn. A cloud of angry bees had swarmed around him, still stinging him.

His father was dead before he’d even arrived. Heart attack from an allergy to bees, the coroner told them later. 

Gone in an instant, just like that.

His dad… his dad is… dead.

He feels it all over again, like it was the first time.

“Dad,” Jensen whispers, falling back against the wall. “Oh, God. Dad.”

“Jensen.” Chad moves towards him, reaching out. 

“Why?” Jensen demands, tears trailing down his cheeks.

“Because life isn’t fair,” Chad says, filled with knowing. He looks away from Jensen’s gaze, shaking his head as he looks at the floor, turning away. “I’m sorry, Jen. I’d hoped this was part of your memory you wouldn’t get back right away.”

It hits Jensen then—it’s 1982—his father is still alive. It was 1992 when his father had died, and if he can just… just… find a way to tell him what’s coming—

“Maybe I could--”

“Jensen.” Chad’s voice is utterly calm as he shakes his head. “No.”

“Why not?” Jensen demands, shoving from the wall. “Why can’t I? Isn’t changing things what I’m here for?”

“We don’t know that, yet. And even if we did… it’s not what you were sent here to change. If it was…” Chad turns, meeting Jensen’s eyes. “If it was, you’d be him, and it would be 1992.”

Chad’s right. Jensen knows it as deeply as he knows he doesn’t want to know it. 

“It isn’t _fair_. How can God, or time, or destiny, or… whatever the hell it is that wants me to fix this expect me not to try?”

“Jensen…” Chad rubs a hand across his jaw, fingers catching and holding around his chin. “These are your words I’m quoting back at you. Anyway… Let’s say you did try. Suppose you called him, or even went to see him. Do you think he’d believe you? You, a complete and total stranger, running to him to tell him how he dies in the _future_?”

“But it _could_ make a difference--” Jensen begins, and the look on Chad’s face cuts him short.

“I’m sorry, Jen. If you were anyone else… I might tell you different. But you’re you… and you know better.”

He does. He knows better—so much better that he can hardly stand it.

“But…” Chad goes on, gesturing at the air. “If you were, to say… call him up, just to say hi…” Chad shrugs, letting the sentence trail off.

And that’s when Jensen gets it, fully, for the first time. Chad isn’t just his partner in the venture—he’s not just an observer. Chad is his _friend_. Jensen almost wishes he could hug him.

“Yeah,” Chad says after a moment, finger hitting the touch screen. The doorway rises behind him, filled with white light, and he steps inside it. “So I’ll… see you soon.”

The doorway vanishes, leaving Jensen alone.

*

The sound of his father’s voice on the phone hits him like a sucker punch, leaving him breathless and unable to speak. It’s too much, and he has to fumble the phone back into the cradle, trying hard to catch his breath.

*

First thing in the morning, he tells Sherri they should go into town for the day. When she looks at him oddly, he shrugs and says something about needing something for work. It turns out though, that their car is an old bucket of rust that’s barely running on its last legs. Jensen spends about an hour in the garage before he decides that he can’t risk all their lives on the hope that this thing will get them all the way to town.

“Oh my God,” Chad breathes, walking through a wall. He’s dressed in black and white polka-dotted _pajamas_ with a bright orange, furry robe pulled on over top, one hand gripping a coffee mug, the other pressed against his head. He’s wearing matching furry orange slippers and he looks completely miserable.

“It’s about god damned time,” Jensen half-yells. “I’ve spent all morning trying to figure out what to do.”

“Ow.” Chad holds his head even tighter and groans. “Dude. Not so loud, please. I’m still hung over from the party.”

“Party?” Jensen echoes.

“Yeah. We’ve been having a party all week at headquarters, celebrating the success of the project.”

“ _Party_?” Jensen asks again, feeling his blood heat up.

“Well, even if we can’t get you back yet, it worked, right? And man, Teresa from the front office—you remember her, right?—we ended up in the copy room, and we made these copies of--”

“Chad,” Jensen interrupts, trying to control himself.

“I had to shred ‘em though,” Chad sighs, disappointed. “Gina would kill me if she saw ‘em.”

“Chad,” Jensen half-yells again, feeling the slightest bit of satisfaction when Chad winces. “Focus. Have Misha punch in the odds of me and Sherri making it into town in this thing.”

“Why?”

“Do it.”

Chad looks at the car for a second, and then blinks, pulling the device out of his robe pocket. He holds it up like he’s taking a picture of the car, punches the screen several times and takes a sip of his coffee. “No go, Jen. Misha says there’s a 96% chance you’ll break down and a… 57% percent chance you’ll _all_ end up getting caught by the tornado as a result.”

“Misha says this is simple. All you have to do is not try to go for help when Sherri goes into labor. Then, when the tornado hits, the two of you stick it out in the root cellar, and when it’s done, John can drive you to the hospital.”

“That’s it?” Jensen asks, surprised. “She doesn’t end up delivering during the storm?”

“Nope. John comes over after the storm to check on you both and ends up driving her to the hospital.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me this right away?”

“I didn’t think it was important. I mean hell, a big brain like yours; I figured you already knew all you had to do was stay put.”

Jensen presses his hands against his face and sighs.

*

It doesn’t quite turn out to be that simple. The storm starts around 12:30PM, and Sherri goes into labor at 12:48PM. The storm has taken out the phone lines, and when Jensen refuses to take the car to go to John's for help, Sherri decides to drive herself over there. He tries everything he can think of to stop her, but she’s insistent, and furious with him on top of everything else.

“It’s just a storm,” she tells him, shaking him off as she reaches the car.

“Jensen, you gotta stop her,” Chad’s voice is urgent in the background. “History is changing—now it says Sherri and the baby die in the tornado.”

“Listen to me,” Jensen says, taking her hands next to the car. “You have to trust me, Sherri. Any minute now, a tornado is going to start near here. It’s not going to hit us directly, but the storm’s still gonna be pretty bad here. If you try to leave now… you could die.”

“Gerald…” she shakes her head, looking confused. “How can you possibly know that?”

“I just do,” Jensen tells her, eyes pleading with hers to believe him. “Please, Sherri. Do you trust me?”

She nods slowly. “I do. But--”

“Then just wait a few minutes, okay?”

“It’s working, Jensen. The odds of them dying are going down. 52%... 36%...”

She hesitates, just looking at him for a long moment, and then finally, she starts to nod again. She freezes halfway through the motion, hands going to her belly, face grimacing in pain. “Dammit, Gerald, if I end up having this baby right here… if anything goes wrong…”

“It won’t,” Jensen assures her. “We’ll go to John’s after the worst of it passes. Tornados pass pretty quickly.”

“How can you…” she trails off, shaking her head at him.

The wind begins to howl outside, and he takes her by the arm.

“Come on. We need to get to the root cellar.”

*

True to Misha’s word, John shows up shortly after the storm passes. He drives them to the hospital in the truck, and Jensen spends several hours at the hospital, wondering why he hasn’t leapt yet when Chad finally shows up.

“Maybe you’re waiting to make sure the kid’s okay?” Chad suggests, when Jensen asks. There’s something in his demeanor that’s just a little too casual—almost suspiciously so. Chad raises his brows at Jensen and takes a drag off the cigarette in his hand. Jensen’s just about to yell at him for smoking in the hospital when he realizes Chad’s not actually here.

One of the nurses is calling for him to come into the room, then, and Jensen gets the dubious honor of watching a new life enter the world. 

After, the nurse cleans the baby and wraps it in a cloth, handing it to Jensen. He isn’t sure what to do for a moment, and then the tiny thing cradled in his arms looks directly into his eyes. He smiles then, relaxing.

“Hey there, little guy.” He brings the baby to Sherri, gently placing it in her arms. 

“He looks just like you,” Sherri whispers, smiling. She’s humming to herself, rocking the baby, and Jensen takes the moment to back a few paces away, whispering as low as he can.

“Chad. Something’s been bugging me this whole time. Gerry’s last name, it seems so familiar for some reason. Like it should mean something to me, but… I can’t quite place it.”

Chad’s sucking on his cigarette and looking almost deliberately elsewhere.

“Chad?” Jensen asks, voice going low and dangerous.

“Huh?” Chad asks, looking guilty and obviously pretending that he’s only just heard Jensen.

“Honey,” Sherri calls him over. She takes his hand when he gets close, pulling him in as she smiles down at the baby.

“I was thinking about what we should name him,” she says. She pauses then, glancing up at Jensen. 

“How do you like the name ‘Jared’?”

Memory strikes him like lightning. Of course. Their last name, ‘Padalecki’… no wonder it had seemed so familiar. God, how could he have forgotten _Jared_? Jensen closes his eyes against the rush of emotion that hits him in that moment, and he takes a deep breath. 

It will be 2008--twenty-six years from now--when Jensen meets Jared for the first time. And now, the sad downturn to Jared’s mouth that he always got when he talked about his father will be erased from history.

Jensen smiles then, blinking back tears as he opens his eyes and reaches down, touching the baby’s cheek with his fingertips. 

“Hi, Jared,” he whispers.

 _God, I’ve missed you_ , Jensen thinks, heart aching, throat tight.

Tiny fingers curl around his forefinger, gripping tight, Jared’s eyes locking on his. 

It’s then that he leaps.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

 

He’s standing in a baseball field dugout, dressed in a uniform. 

“Oh boy.”

He glances around, looking at his teammates and then sits down on the bench, trying to look like he belongs here. Chad appears a few moments later, dressed in a canary yellow suit with an orange tie. His shoes are orange, too, and there’s a pair of gigantic see-through orange glasses perched on the bridge of his nose.

Jensen gets up and walks to the far end of the dugout, away from everyone else. “I didn’t leap home,” he whispers.

Chad shakes his head. “Sorry, Jen. Whatever’s running things… it looks like it’s got more work for you to do.”

Saving people. Traveling through time. It’s not a bad gig. It’s almost what he’d set out to do in the first place. He just hadn’t planned on making the world a better place one person at a time. Or on not being able to get home again.

“Sherri? The baby?” he asks, suddenly remembering.

“You don’t remember?” Chad asks, eyeing him carefully.

Jensen thinks for a moment. “Some of it, yeah. It’s a little scrambled. I guess leaping puts some new holes in my memory every time.”

“They’re all fine,” Chad assures him. “Sherri, Gerry… the baby,” he adds after a moment. 

“Jared,” Jensen breathes, remembering.

Chad glances at him, and then continues. “They move to San Antonio and live happily ever after. Gerry gets a job at an oil rig closer to the city, and Sherri goes into accounting for a law investment firm. They’re still together in our time. And Jared,” Chad hesitates and waves at the air, “well, you, uh, already know.”

At least Jensen had gotten to see him again. Even for that brief a time.

“Is he happier?” Jensen asks after a moment.

Chad slides his finger across the screen and then nods at Jensen. “He’s definitely happier.”

“Good.” Jensen nods, smiling. “That’s good.”

Jensen takes a moment, just a moment, to be grateful.

“Chad. What year is it?”

“Oh. It’s 1979, and you’re a baseball player named… Where are you going?” Chad asks as Jensen starts to walk away.

“To do something I should have done before.”

*

The conversation with his father doesn’t last longer than ten minutes—and it feels like the best ten minutes of his life. He pretends to be the son of his father’s brother who moved to Australia, and his ‘uncle’ welcomes him with such open arms that it’s all he can do not to break down then and there.

But just… being able to hear his father’s voice again, to hear that tone, that welcome, warm love of family…

It’s more than enough, he thinks as he walks back to the dugout. If being stuck traveling through time can give him this… then, the people he’s supposed to help… how much more can he give them? He’s already saved one life. He gave Jared back his father and changed Jared’s life for the better.

Jensen picks up his bat and steps to the plate.

\-----

 

In 1978, I was a rock star who saved a fan’s life. In 2011, I saved the life of a very important gay rights activist who ended up making a huge difference in the battle for equal marriage rights. In 1999 I prevented a riot that claimed more than sixty lives. Across the years, I prevented dozens of murders and accidental deaths. It wasn't always easy. I almost died a few times, myself, and I’ve had more guns pointed at me than I care to remember.

But the leaps weren’t always about big things; mostly, they were about the small things. I kept families from disintegrating. I helped nudge the careers of some people who had a positive effect on the larger picture in small ways. I helped families reunite. I helped people wrongfully accused or imprisoned attain freedom. I helped relationships that went awry or never even got started find their way.

I saved so many lives, corrected so many mistakes. I got to live and experience so many different things; to teach and save and change, to kiss and touch and be loved. 

But at the end of each leap, my heart hopeful and longing for home, all I ever found was another wrong needing to be put right. 

In the future, where I originally leaped from, it had been three years. Three years of never seeing my own face in the mirror, or hearing my own name. Three years, righting the mistakes of the past. I had done everything that had ever been required of me—everything that the entity in charge of my destiny could have asked for and then some. 

And then I got to see my father again, hear his voice and touch him.

Three years, and I had asked for nothing.

\---

 

_1991_

Jensen is in Dallas, Texas, as close to his father as he’s ever going to get again. He’s done everything he can to try to stop his father from dying, but Misha keeps insisting that it’s going to happen anyway, because that isn’t his mission. That isn’t why he’s here.

“I’m sorry, Jensen.” Chad bows his head, solemn.

Jensen doesn’t care how sorry Chad is as he paces beneath the clear blue sky, screaming up at it. 

“I’ve always done everything you wanted! This isn’t fair! I can save all these other people, but I can’t save someone I care about?” His hands lashes out, striking the fence post. “That’s it. I’m _done_. Done, do you hear me?” he demands, rage coursing through him. “DONE. Fuck destiny—fuck _you_! I _quit_.”

It takes a long time before he can calm down enough to think straight. When he does, all he feels is worn out and empty.

He’s tired. He doesn’t want to leap anymore. He wants to stay here, near his family. 

In the end, he finishes the mission and wins the high school basketball game that will change so many people’s futures. 

In the end, he has to do it, because it’s the right thing to do.

But it isn’t fair.

His father’s face is the last thing he sees before he dissolves in the sensation of blue-white light.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

 

_2008_

There’s the peculiar and familiar sensation of being put back together, one tingling molecule at a time, blue-white light flaring so bright that it’s blinding as he feels himself slide fully into place.

He’s… somewhere else. Some _when_ else.

He blinks, pulling his hand back to his side. He’s in a bathroom, and he doesn’t get much of a chance to see anything else, because there’s someone standing right in front of him at the bathroom sink, and he’s apparently just tapped them on the shoulder.

The guy turns around to meet his eyes with curiosity.

He’s tall, that’s the first thing Jensen notices—taller than him, and there aren’t too many guys he’s known who are. He’s also built like a goddamned brick shithouse, dark t-shirt clinging to him and leaving nothing to the imagination; wide chest and broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist that ends at slender hips, blue jeans slung low around them. The jeans aren’t as tight as they could be, but they cling in all the right places, and there’s the loveliest space of bare, flat, tanned skin between their edge and the edge of the shirt.

The guy is gorgeous, olive-tinted skin with a strong, wide jaw, sharp cheekbones and almond shaped eyes. Longish, dark hair, bangs brushing against his cheek, and his eyes are hazel, innocent and guileless as he stares back. He looks… familiar. Like someone Jensen feels like he should recognize, name hovering at the tip of his tongue.

“You need something?” the guy asks.

 _I’m Jensen_ , he wants to answer immediately. His name springs to his lips unbidden, and he bites it back with an effort. No one except Chad has called him Jensen in a very long time, and he’s used to that by now. He’s _good_ at not giving anything away until he figures out who he’s masquerading as. He doesn’t understand why his name comes to him now, instinctively wanting to force its way across his lips.

Jensen swallows, stalling for time. “I just… I, um…” He’s hopeful that the guy will give him some kind of clue, or someone else will step in, or—

The guy squints at him momentarily, and then his face slides into a slow smile. “Oh,” the guy says with a chuckle—and he’s even more gorgeous when he laughs, head tipping back to expose the incredibly long length of his throat, sound reverberating through his chest, hearty and deep. He shakes his head then, hair swinging back and forth across his cheeks. 

“Is this the official welcome to the team?” the guy asks, holding out his hand. “Well, it’s nice to finally meet you in person, Jensen.”

Jensen’s hand freezes halfway to the larger man’s. 

“What?” he asks, heart thumping suddenly inside his chest.

The guy hesitates a second, and then seems to find his place. “Right. I meant; nice to meet you, Dr. Ackles.”

Everything inside Jensen goes very still; heartbeat thundering at a distance, a barely heard buzzing sound that doesn’t touch him at all. The rest is silence.

Did this guy just call him by his real, actual _first and last name_?

Jensen forces a smile and leans at the edge of the larger man’s frame, trying to get a look at his features in the mirror behind. 

“I…”

He stops speaking then, forgetting how to breathe.

The face in the mirror is Jensen’s own; green eyes wide and ten years younger. 

“Oh boy,” he whispers.

  



	2. Chapter 2

For the first time in three years, Jensen is looking at _his own face_. His skin breaks into goose flesh, nipples hardening, shiver racing down his spine.

He’s… _him_. 

Breath held suspended in his lungs for a long moment, staring at his reflection, and then he finally exhales. He edges back, looking at the gorgeous man standing in front of him.

“Yeah. I’m Jensen,” he says. His name rolls off his tongue and it feels like a gift. 

“And I’m--”

 _Jared_ , a voice inside Jensen’s mind answers.

“--Jared,” the guy smiles back, reaching to shake his hand again. 

“Padalecki.” The word comes from somewhere deep inside Jensen, spoken before he knows what he’s saying.

When they clasp hands, Jensen can feel energy shoot through him, riding his skin like static electricity, buzzing and reverberating all the way to the bone. It’s half memory, he’s sure, but the other half is pure chemistry, and the two combine in a perfect synchronicity that leaves him standing there, frozen and trembling inside, hand closed around Jared’s.

“I know you,” Jensen whispers, shaking his head slightly. He may not understand what’s happening, but he knows it’s true. He _knows_ Jared, somehow. On a level so deep that even time-leaping memory loss can’t erase it completely. 

Jared looks at him for a long second or two, head tilting fractionally to one side. “Yeah,” he says, pulling his hand away. “I’m kind of… surprised you remember me, actually, busy as you’ve been.”

For a long second, Jensen just stares. And then he realizes Jared means younger-Jensen-- _this_ Jensen--has encountered Jared somewhere before.

“Sure I do,” Jensen says, stalling as he tries to think of somewhere logical. Fuck, he doesn’t even know where he is. “You’re new to the team,” he says like he knows what the hell he’s talking about, guessing completely, clinging desperately to what Jared has already told him.

The door to the bathroom opens, bringing with it the rich, resonant notes of Fur Elise. They’re faint and faraway, so beautiful and haunting, and another chill sweeps through Jensen. Time seems to slow down for an instant, and Jared’s face blurs, identical double images overlaid, caught somewhere between reality and memory.

Jensen remembers this; fragmented flash of memory. In a few seconds, Chad from whatever year this is, who has just walked through the door, will call his name, fatally interrupting his conversation with Jared. Jensen can feel time tug at him, pulling along the line of his neck and jaw, wanting to turn his head in the direction of Chad entering the room. He resists the urge, curls his upper lip between his teeth and bites down, gaze remaining on Jared, those eyes reflecting the same curiosity Jensen feels inside. 

In the distance, Chad calls his name, and says something else that Jensen isn’t paying any attention to.

“My second day,” Jared agrees.

“Right,” Jensen nods. “Second day.” He hears the words, repeats them, but they don’t catch with any significance in his mind, slipping off in the wake of those hazel eyes. 

“Jensen,” Chad calls from his right.

Jensen holds Jared’s gaze for another beat, not wanting to move. There’s something important here, teasing around the edges of his mind like a fleeting shadow, and if he could just… get a moment, he could catch hold of it—

“Jensen,” Chad says again, impatient. “Dude.” Chad’s practically yelling in his ear now. “Did you go deaf during that last explosion? I said _Sophia_ just called me.”

The moment shatters and the memory dances beyond his reach, slipping away like a sigh. Jensen grits his teeth as it goes, as Jared glances away, and finally, he turns, meeting Chad head on. 

“You really never did get the hang of social graces, did you?” 

Chad blinks once, but he’s obviously too overwhelmed and agitated by whatever’s bugging him to deal with what Jensen’s just said. 

“She said she called because she wanted to see _how I was doing_.” Chad utters the final words as if they hold some cosmically mystical importance.

“I’ll… alert the media?” Jensen asks, mystified.

Jared’s broad form is edging away from the sink, muscles in his arms rippling as his hands slide into his pants pockets. 

“Wait.” Jensen moves a step forward, reaching out towards Jared.

“Hey, we can do the meet and greet later.” Jared shrugs one massive shoulder, and the movement is endearing, entrancing, hair falling forward into his face. “I can see you’ve got a crisis on your hands here,” he says, finally glancing at Jensen with a faint smile. 

“Yes!” Chad throws his hands up gratefully. “See?” he demands, looking at Jensen, triumphant. “Even some guy I’ve never met before understands how important this is. Get with the program, Jen.”

Jensen shares another bemused glance with Jared across Chad’s shoulder as Jared starts to turn away, and everything inside Jensen wants to call out after him again, stop him from leaving. He just needs a moment to remember, to figure this out. But the look on Chad’s face tells him that he’s not going to get it, and if he goes on too much about it, he’s going to end up making a scene.

“Jared. Could we… maybe finish talking later? You know…” he says, gesturing at the men’s room around them with a faint smile. “Somewhere _else_?”

Jared’s eyes widen slightly, his wide, full mouth working for a moment before sound comes out. 

“Sure. I mean… let me give you my cell number.” Jared’s hand flexes inside the frayed edge of his jeans pocket. Jensen expects him to pull something out, but then Jared goes on speaking. “6195551314.”

That’s… very strange.

“You have a photographic memory.” Chad’s voice; older and thicker, scratchy with more years and smoke. “God, how fucking ironic is it that I have to remind you of that sometimes?”

Jensen thinks for a second and finds that it’s true, he’s got it memorized. “I’ll call you,” he tells Jared.

The smile Jared sends him is so wide and dazzling that Jensen’s still standing there like a deer in the headlights after Jared’s gone.

Past-Chad is staring at him incredulously.

“I can’t believe you, Jensen. I’m having a full-on _crisis_ here, and you’re trying to get _laid_.”

“Can’t imagine where I learned that from,” Jensen deadpans, eyeing hologram-Chad.

Hologram-Chad puffs on the end of his cigarette, shoulders shifting as he looks up at the ceiling, wide eyes the very picture of innocence.

“How did Jared know I have a photographic memory?” Jensen asks. Past-Chad can answer that one for him, he’s sure of it.

“It’s the Starlight Project,” hologram-Chad says.

And then Chad’s voices overlap in a synchronicity that sends up a spike of pain behind one of Jensen’s eyes. 

_“Dude. Everyone **here** knows you have a photographic memory.”_

Jensen presses a hand to his temple and takes a breath. 

“This is going to be _so_ much fun,” he mutters. 

“You’re missing the point.” Past-Chad is more riled up than Jensen can ever remember seeing him. “ _Sophia_ called me.”

Hologram-Chad sighs wistfully, eyes roving up and down his younger self. “Look at me, Jensen. I’m young… and _hot_.”

“That’s… disturbing,” Jensen comments.

“I know, right?” Past-Chad lifts his hands, motioning at the air. 

“Are you ever gonna tell me what’s going on?” Jensen asks with a pointed glance at hologram-Chad.

Hologram Chad blinks, pulling his gaze from past-Chad, palming the computer device from his pants pocket. He taps Squishy—as Chad affectionately named the device a long time ago, for reasons known only to Chad—and skims the data on the screen.

“It’s 2008,” he says, and then drags in a lungful of the cigarette caught between his forefingers. “You’re…” Chad makes a motion that leaves smoke trailing through the air, “you. In case you hadn’t figured that out yet.” The words emerge with a curl of gray smoke. “We’re both on the Starlight project—the project that spawned the Quantum Leap project.”

“What’s going on?” Past-Chad asks. “Sophia, dude. That’s what’s going on.”

“Sophia… my first wife—ex-wife,” hologram-Chad adds, “as of five years ago, in 2003. This—now in 2008—is the first time she’s called since we split. He’s—I’m all worked up about it. Don’t listen to him,” hologram-Chad tells Jensen, waving a hand at past-Chad. “He’s hot, but he has no idea what he’s talking about.”

“So this is different... how?” Jensen asks.

Chad’s collective eyes turn on him quizzically.

“I meant the part where you ever know what you’re talking about,” Jensen mutters.

“Are you high?” Past-Chad asks. “Because dude, if you’re getting high without me, I’m totally breaking up with you.”

Jensen blinks and tries his hardest to focus on the moment. “No. Sorry. I was just… distracted.”

“You’re gonna have to hear him out,” hologram-Chad tells him, like there’s no help for it. “I suggest beer. Lots of it.” He squints through the smoke rising from his cigarette, like he’s trying to remember. “I’m pretty sure there was beer involved.”

“You know what?” Jensen asks past-Chad, slinging an arm around him and turning him towards the door. Chad feels… strangely warm, muscles stronger and more tense than Jensen would ever have imagined. There’s a solidity and grace to his movements as walk together that surprises Jensen.

“Beer sounds great,” Jensen adds, patting him once on the shoulder.

Past-Chad only looks confused for split second before his face brightens.

*

Past-Chad leads him out the door and through what is obviously the private section of a facility. People scurry past them in various states of dress; some of them in jeans and t-shirts heading one way, others in lab coats as they hurry in the opposite direction. It strikes Jensen as a college dorm type of environment, only more adult. 

“I’m gonna head back,” hologram-Chad tells him, pulling Squishy from his pocket. “See what Misha can figure out about why you’re here.”

Jensen nods, and hologram-Chad vanishes inside the doorway of white light.

Past-Chad stops them in front of another door that turns out to be his private room, and it’s only when Chad starts stripping out of his clothes right there in front of Jensen that Jensen notices they’re both clad in lab coats over dark shirts and dark slacks. Jensen turns away and is surprised to find Chad’s room is completely tidy, dirty clothes tossed into a cloth hamper, closet door opening to rows of neatly hung shirts and slacks in a dizzying array of colors, shoes impeccably shined and stacked side by side across the bottom. The walls are plain white, and the carpet a generic, industrial gray, but there are splashes of color everywhere, abstract prints and colored lamp shades that give the room a homey glow.

There’s a full length mirror on the outside of the bathroom door. The inside of the bathroom is tiny; just enough room for a single-person shower stall, a sink and a toilet. But it’s the mirror that catches Jensen’s attention. He pulls the door closed, standing in front of it and looking at his reflection wonderingly. 

2008\. He’s thirty years old, and the lines at the corners of his eyes are barely crinkles, only showing when he smiles. He’s missing the light scar across his chin that he got when he was thirty-five, moving too quickly with the whip thin electrical cording he was repairing. He runs the fingertips of his right hand along the line of his cheek, feeling the solid bone beneath, down across his chin, beneath his lower lip. The skin is smooth and supple, the swell of his lower lip fuller and more pronounced.

Twelve years before he stepped into the quantum accelerator. God. Had he ever really been this young?

“You falling in love with yourself over here or what?” Chad asks, coming into view behind him.

"I just... I haven't seen my face in so _long_ ," Jensen marvels, pressing a palm against his jaw and feeling the curve of bone, watching the way his fingers make indentations in the flesh.

"Jensen. You're doing that thing again where you're not making any sense. You’re supposed to do that _after_ the beer,” Chad reminds him, hand closing on Jensen’s shoulder.

Beer. Right.

Jensen pulls his eyes reluctantly from the mirror, and turns to walk with Chad. It’s then that he notices what Chad’s wearing; blood red slacks with an aqua blue button down shirt and a matching red tie. His dress shoes are a highly-polished darker red.

“So this is just a ‘you’ thing,” Jensen notes. 

Chad leads him to the door of his own room, and he stands there in the doorway for a moment after it opens. 

They clearly both work and live here, on the Starlight project—whatever that is. This room is _his_ , he can feel that on a level beyond memory.

The walls are the same white as Chad’s were, the carpet the same gray, but the two rooms couldn’t be more different. Over the double bed furnished with brown and beige linens hangs a huge framed poster of the night sky, every single constellation traced out and named. There are more star charts surrounding it on the same wall, and on the wall next to the bathroom door hangs a framed print of Leonardo DaVinci’s Vitruvian Man. 

The far wall of the room is the one that leaves him standing still in the grip of memory. He remembers taping it off around the edges, the spray can in his hand, the way it had rattled when he shook it. He’d sprayed it evenly, three coats, until it had been covered in glossy white plastic. His own, huge, whiteboard wall. 

The expanse is filled with dry erase marker almost from top to bottom, equations written in shades of black, green and blue, each color differentiating them as a separate part of the sequence. 

“We’re trying to figure out how to travel faster than light,” Jensen remembers, eyes tracing out the familiar equations. It almost feels like coming home, memory sparking warmth in his chest, mouth curving into a wide smile. “That’s what the Starlight project is.”

“Good work, genius,” Chad quips, propelling him forward into the room. “You gonna get changed or what?”

There are two bookshelves against the inner wall, so filled with books that they look as though they might burst at the seams. An overflow of books is stacked on top of the shelves, and in small piles on the floor in front of them. In the corner there’s a cozy chair and a little wooden table with a single book lying on it, a small, circular brown rug completing the area. Jensen’s eyes are drawn again to the wooden table, to the thin, gold-wired rimmed glasses lying there. The memory materializes, coalescing into solidarity—the sensation of sliding them up and down his nose, the weight and feel of them. He remembers them so well… just as well as he remembers that he doesn’t need them anymore; he had his vision corrected surgically in 2015.

For a moment, it’s all so strange and improbable that he can scarcely wrap his mind around it. He wants to laugh, sound bubbling up inside his chest, and it takes every bit of discipline in him to screw it back down tight with a smile.

He can deal with all of this later. Right now, he has to keep up appearances.

In the top dresser drawer, he finds a pair of jeans worn smooth and nearly white at the stress points. They feel like felt against his fingertips, scent of laundry soap still clinging to them. There’s a t-shirt folded in the adjacent drawer that’s just as worn and familiar, thin, comfortable gray that slides on like second skin, hugging his shoulders and chest.

He turns and faces the mirror on the outside of his own bathroom door. 

_If the facts don't fit the theory, change the facts._

The words are scrawled in black dry erase marker across the upper portion of the glass in his own handwriting. A constant reminder to his younger self that doesn’t escape him even now, and he smiles to see them there, dissecting his reflection with their wisdom.

“Dude, seriously. Get over yourself,” Chad mutters from behind him.

“I just need my boots,” Jensen replies.

He walks to the closet without a thought for where they might be, picks them up and slides them on.

*

The place Chad drives him to is miles away—it would have to be, as far out in the middle of Nowhere, New Mexico as they are. As it is, it seems to be the only place that exists between the Starlight facility and the rest of the world. It sits at the corner of a crossroads with nothing but pavement stretching out in all four directions until it disappears against the flat landscape. The neon sign above the squat brick building reads “Al’s Place”. 

The stars are bright points in the wide open night sky, twinkling brilliantly down on desert sand as they walk to the wooden door, sound of a jukebox thumping out through the frame, strains of classic rock guitar drifting on the cool evening air.

The music changes as they walk inside, Jensen holding the door for Chad behind him. Playfully slow, upbeat guitar, smoky, melancholy female voice laid over the deceptively cheerful hook. The bar is a single, smoke-filled room, polished wooden floor stretching the length. To the left and towards the back are booths, patrons cut mostly with shadows, light glancing off the edges of their features as they move and speak. Further forward, beneath warm overhead lights, tables stretch to fill the rest of the space along a railing that divides the room into two uneven sections. Several feet directly in front of them, there are two steps down to a landing beyond where several couples dance, hips swinging back and forth to the music, hands and mouths intertwined, silhouettes limned in the bright blue-green neon of the jukebox behind. To the right, the bar stretches out in a solid line, people scattered along the barstools, nursing drinks alone or engaged in conversation punctuated by raucous laughter. There are a few booths there as well, along the inside wall, more brightly lit than the others.

Chad pulls him towards these booths, and Jensen lets himself be led, sliding in against the dark red leather seat across from Chad. 

“I’m telling you, Jensen, she’s got something planned. I don’t know what, but calling after five years to see how I’m doing?”

“Maybe she really wanted to see how you were doing,” Jensen offers.

“I think this calls for shots,” Chad says with gravity as he nods.

Jensen leans back against the leather, feeling it creak. It feels good, and warm and somehow right. Does he even do shots? He isn’t sure. Isn’t sure it matters, as his fingers drum along the polished table with the song on the jukebox.

It’s 2008 and he’s thirty years old, settling in his own skin again for the first time. Everything here feels comfortable, as broken-in and smooth as the jeans he’s wearing.

“What kind of shots?” he asks. 

“Tequila,” Chad answers, almost scoffing--as if Jensen should have known better than to even ask.

“Of course,” Jensen agrees.

Their waitress is a middle-aged woman with henna red hair piled atop her head. Her name tag reads Mona, and she and Chad seem to know each other well. Chad flirts with her outrageously and she takes it all in stride, retaining a playful but motherly air. Jensen’s content to listen to them while he looks around, taking in the atmosphere of the room.

“You in for shots with this guy, Jen?” Mona asks, finally turning her attention to him. “’Cause that sounds like a world of trouble waitin’ to happen, if you ask me.”

“Why not?” Jensen shrugs. “You only live once, right?”

“Your funeral,” she shrugs back, copper circles of her long earrings jangling.

The first shot goes down smooth, light burn absorbed by the salt and lemon, and Jensen smiles, turning the shot glass over on the table.

“That’s what I’m talkin’ about,” Chad says with relish as he turns his shot glass over, too, back of the other hand wiping at his mouth. 

Then he stops, catching sight of something across the room. “Damn. Check _her_ out.”

Jensen turns, glancing over his shoulder casually. There’s a petite, dark-haired girl standing just inside the entryway. She’s dressed in skin-tight jeans and high heels, pink blouse drooping just low enough to show off a hint of cleavage. She’s dressed modestly compared to some of the other women in the bar, and Jensen’s surprised Chad’s interested. She’s beautiful, but there’s more to her than that; she radiates with sunshine and energy, whole face alive, dark eyes sharp and intelligent. 

“That’s Sandy,” Chad says as Jensen turns back around. “The new girl in our lab?” he asks, when Jensen looks at him blankly. He waves a hand at Jensen and goes on. “She just got her PhD in physics, brand new to the program. Hewlett says she’s a genius. But damn… brains and all _that_ too?” 

Jensen glances over his shoulder again, just in time to see Sandy walking away towards one of the tables on the other side of the room.

“Ready for another shot?” Chad asks.

There’s the sound of a door sliding open, and then hologram-Chad’s standing next to their table, turning in a slow circle as he looks around. 

“I remember this place,” he nods. “Good times. Man, there was this chick one time…”

“Sure,” Jensen agrees, addressing Chad across the table from him. “Just let me… hit the bathroom first.”

Jensen rises from the table, not quite knowing where the bathrooms are… and then he sees a darkened hallway to the far right of the room. He heads that way, feet scuffling against the wooden floor, hoping he’s got the right direction, and is rewarded by the sight of a men’s room sign at the end of the hall. A woman is heading down the hall towards him, her features cut dramatically by the overhead lights, dark eyes and dark hair, lips painted fire-engine red. She’s wearing a mini-dress that leaves her long, muscular legs on perfect display, ending in three inch black stilettos. 

“Hey, sugar,” she whispers, leaning into his space as she passes, and Jensen can smell her, musk and perfumed jasmine. She flashes him a wink, long lashes and thick black eyeliner, lips pursing in a perfect pout.

Hologram-Chad comes to a full stop, staring until she’s passed.

“Mmm… you know, my…” Hologram-Chad pauses, eyes glancing upward as he counts off fingers uncertainly. “Third?” He stops, and then counts his fingers again, mouth moving around his cigarette filter in time with the motion. “No. My _fourth_ wife,” Chad amends. He points a finger down the hallway after the woman’s retreating back. “Looked just like her.”

Jensen takes a deep breath and tries to be patient.

“Man, she was something. Crazy, but, damn, the sex… I’ve still got scars, right here--” Chad starts to lift the hem of his shirt, fingers of his other hand pushing down the waistband of his gold lamé pants.

“Stop,” Jensen hisses. “Jesus, Chad. I need to go to my grave not knowing this.”

“Hellfire on legs,” Chad says, eyes full of memory as he continues to stare, nodding as his hands abandon his clothes, fingers reaching for the cigarette caught between his lips.

The hallway is deserted for the moment, and Jensen decides to go for it. “What’s going on?”

“Hmm?” Chad asks, still distracted.

“Why are you _here_?” Jensen asks, emphatic.

“Oh, right.” Chad pulls Squishy from his pocket, tapping his fingers against the screen as he types something. He tilts his head left, then right, squinting as he takes a drag off his cigarette. “Well… we’re not sure why you’re here.”

Jensen just looks at him for a long moment. “That’s it? That’s what you’ve got for me?”

Chad shrugs, looking vaguely chastened. “Misha’s working on it. There’s nothing significant happening in the next few days or even weeks that we can turn up. Your younger self is having a _blast_ in the future, though. He’s into everything, driving Misha crazy. He’s so excited that his--your idea’s going to work one day…” Chad shakes his head. “I don’t have the heart to tell him he’s not gonna remember any of it.”

“So why are you here?” Jensen reiterates, confused.

“Oh,” Chad hunches up one shoulder, corner of his mouth pulling in a grin. “I just came to watch. Catch a performance or two of myself in my youth.”

Jensen shakes his head and turns on the heel of his boot, heading back towards the bar. 

Chad follows blithely along behind him, reminiscing aloud. “There was this chick here one night… musta been 2011. She could tie _two_ knots in a cherry stem.” When Jensen doesn’t answer, Chad clarifies, “Without using her hands. Tied me up in knots, too, before the night was over…”

Jensen tunes him out and swerves toward the bar, suddenly in the mood for a beer.

The bar isn’t what Jensen would call crowded, although it’s certainly busy. He reaches for the wallet in his back pocket and pulls it out, drawing a twenty dollar bill from the open fold. He spares a glance at his driver’s license, reflection of the hologram catching the light for a moment.

“Hey, kiddo.” The voice is craggy and thick with years of smoke, cutting into his contemplation.

The bartender is in his fifties, easily, but his hair isn’t streaked by a bit of gray, short length curling at his temples. His eyes are dark, almost fathomless, but somehow kind. There’s a cigar caught between the first and second fingers of his right hand, thick smoke trailing off the end as he motions at Jensen. “Something I can do for you?”

“Two shots of your best tequila, and two draft beers.”

The bartender places the cigar between his lips and nods, hands already moving to fill his order. 

“I’m gonna go see what I’m up to.” Hologram-Chad says as he fades out.

“You new here?” the bartender asks, words grunted around the end of his cigar.

Jensen thinks for a moment, soaking in the feel of the room. He glances up, catching sight of his own reflection between the clear bottle necks of liquor. 

“No.” He shakes his head.

“Huh,” the bartender puffs as he draws the last draft. He tops off the beer, tilting the glass sideways to let the head slide off a bit. “Well you sure do look happy to be here.”

“Just having a good night,” Jensen smiles.

“Gotta enjoy the good times while they last.” The bartender nods. “One thing you learn, being a bartender; most people, they never take the time to really enjoy anything. Always too busy thinking about what everything means, or in a hurry to get to the next part, like they’re trying to win some kind of prize. But life’s really just about the moments. Where you are right now, the beer in front of you, the company you’re in, what you’re talking about, the song playing on the radio. That’s what it’s all about.”

“Yeah,” Jensen nods, warmth of the shot in his belly rising, blooming to fill his chest.

The bartender sets the beer glasses on the bar, two shots of tequila right behind, and then he places two lemon wedges on a square napkin and slides them up alongside. “Salt’s on the bar.”

“Thanks.”

“Have a good night, kid.” The bartender is gone before Jensen can pay him, leaving Jensen momentarily confused.

 _It’s about the moments_ , he reminds himself, still smiling as he stuffs the twenty into his front pants pocket. He settles his hands on the beer glasses, trying to decide how he’s going to carry the shots back to the table when he notices the person a few feet away from him down the bar.

Jared is standing at the bar, long, tall body swaying through the smoky air with the rhythm of the drumbeat from the jukebox. He’s dressed in the same clothes Jensen saw him in earlier, shirt and jeans accentuating every curve of muscle like magic, arms folded across the polished wood, hair falling forward to obscure his face. There’s a small, frayed hole above his right back pocket, white threads stretched taut and wide over bare, tanned skin, and Jensen’s breath catches in his chest.

Jared. _God_. For the span of a split second, the vision hits him fully, kicking him in the gut with memory out of time. 

_\--“So that bit in the bathroom earlier…” Jared’s voice is husky, barely audible above the music. He doesn’t turn to look at Jensen, fingers playing in the condensation of his glass. “That was you messing with me, right?”_

_“What?” Jensen asks, genuinely surprised._

_“Hazing the newbie,” Jared clarifies, leaning even more intently over his beer. “I mean, why would somebody like you be interested in getting to know me? I just finished my PhD this past spring; I’ve been on the project for two days. I’m nobody. So why do you want to talk to me?”_

_Jared finally turns his head, eyes rising to meet Jensen’s, and Jensen’s left speechless by how utterly gorgeous he is.--_

Jensen takes a deep breath, letting it linger before he exhales, clearing his mind. Without thinking, he reaches down and pulls his cell phone from his jeans pocket, punching in a phone number on autopilot.

Several feet away, Jared’s cell phone begins to ring.

He watches from the corner of his eye as Jared stands straighter, brow furrowing as he digs out his phone, frowning at the number on the screen before he answers.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Jared,” Jensen says into the phone. “This is Jensen.”

The expression on Jared’s face is priceless as he hears Jensen through the speaker, hears Jensen speaking aloud several feet away. Slowly, Jared turns, looking at him.

“So, that conversation we were having earlier?” Jensen goes on, eyes following his fingertip as it strokes a line through the condensation on his beer glass. “I was thinking _now_ might be a good time to continue it.”

“Well,” Jared sighs breezily, getting into the spirit, and from the corner of his eye, Jensen can see him rest an elbow against the bar, weight leaning in. “I’m kinda busy right now...” he trails off.

“You’re cute,” Jensen tells him, smirking. “But you’re not as cute as me.”

“Sadly,” Jared agrees, voice deadpan, “no. You’re kicking my ass in the cuteness department right now.”

Jensen grins, turning his face against the phone. “Okay. Maybe you can help me out, then. I’m at this bar called ‘Al’s Place’, and there’s this guy standing next to me. I’m about to make a move—slide up and offer him a shot and a beer, but… I’m not sure if that would be coming on too strong. What do you think?”

“Is he hot?” Jared asks, voice crackling across the connection, Green Day echoing in the background between them.

“He’s… definitely hot,” Jensen bites down against his lower lip, riding out the understatement.

Jared only hesitates for a second. “I think he’d be flattered.”

“Good.”

Jensen hangs up, shoving his phone into his pocket. He reaches out, sliding the drinks and shots along the bar for a few feet until he’s standing right next to Jared. 

Jensen leans in, speaking in the direction of Jared’s ear. “I have it on the authority of a good friend that bribing you with liquor before talking to you is a good idea.” 

Jensen has no idea where his nerve is coming from—fifteen years ago, he would never have been this bold. Maybe it’s the sense of history he feels whenever he looks at Jared, the way it tugs at his heart. Maybe it’s just that he’s older now. Maybe it’s that traveling through time, assuming different identities and helping people for the last three years, has made him braver than he ever would have been otherwise.

He doesn’t know. And he doesn’t really care.

Jared pulls his hand from his pocket and turns his head, greeting Jensen with a dazzling smile. 

“Your friend sounds like a smart guy. I think you should keep him around,” Jared advises, fingers closing around the shot of tequila.

“I’m hoping to.” Jensen reaches for the other shot glass and taps it against Jared’s before they toss them back in unison.

*

“So you really think time travel is possible?” Jared asks, setting down another shot glass. He’s sitting on a stool now, leaning heavily against the bar, hazel eyes serious in the gleam of the recessed lighting. “I mean, I know that’s the point of the project, eventually… but most people on the team don’t seem to even believe that faster than light travel is possible.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s possible,” Jensen deadpans before he kicks back another shot.

Jared squints at Jensen as he sips from his beer. “How can you be so sure?”

Jensen rocks his teeth back and forth for a moment, thinking, and then he reaches for a bar napkin, dragging it close before he reaches for a Keno pencil. He scribbles out a quick equation, and sees Jared frown with confusion.

“Einstein always said we’d need to invent new math to travel faster than light speed… and that’s…” Jared nods at the napkin, expression contemplative, “definitely some new math.”

Jensen tosses the pencil aside, using his hands to explain instead. “Think of it this way… once we conquer the mystery of traveling faster than light speed, it’s a quick jump to time travel. Ten years, tops.”

“That’s if we _can_ ,” Jared reminds him.

Jensen presses his lips together, forcing himself to remember that this is 2008, and even if he knows the answer, he can’t just give it away without changing everything in history.

“We can,” Jensen assures him, taking another sip from his beer.

Jared nods, slowly, fingers flexing around his beer glass. “I think so, too. And…” Jared’s cheeks flush dark pink for a moment, and then he reaches for the pencil with a decisive gesture. “I’d feel stupid telling anyone else this... But…” He sketches out an equation on the napkin that Jensen recognizes immediately. It’s just the beginning of a sequence that will carry them forward to discovering how to travel faster than light, but it’s a beginning. It’s solid.

Jensen sets his beer aside, nodding slowly. “That’s… I think you’re on the right track.”

“And then...” Jared goes on, more confident, “if that works…” he scribbles another equation on the napkin, and Jensen is about to have a physics-gasm right here on his stool. It’s clear to Jensen in this moment that he fell for Jared. He remembers almost nothing about what happened between them, but he doesn’t need to. It’s all right here in front of him, in the gorgeous lines of Jared’s face, the flush of his skin, the way his hand moves with confidence as he writes, how smart he is.

Did Jared fall for him, too? How did it all end? He doesn’t remember. He just knows that it did end, hollow ache filling his chest with the realization.

Maybe that’s why he’s here. To make sure it doesn’t end this time. After all, Misha doesn’t know why he was sent here, and Jensen… well, he deserves this, doesn’t he? After all this time?

Jensen clears his throat and tries to focus. “Have you shown this to anyone else?”

“I just got here, remember?” Jared asks, mouth curling in a wry smile. “It’s not like Dr. Hewlett is going to take the time to sit down and listen to all my theories.”

Hewlett. A quick image of the man flashes through Jensen’s mind; short and carrying just enough weight to make him look soft, expressive face with a wide mouth and inquisitive blue eyes. He remembers Dr. Hewlett. 

“Where does Dr. Hewlett have you working?”

“In research,” Jared shrugs. “I mean, it’s nice and all. I’m happy to be here, period. But I’d rather be in development, experimenting.”

“Dr. Hewlett’s a genius,” Jensen tells him. “But he’s not good at thinking outside the box. Not unless there’s a crisis happening.”

“So why aren’t you in charge?” Jared asks with a grin. 

“Maybe one day,” Jensen grins back.

*

“Why are you so interested in me?” Jared asks, eyes narrowing across his beer glass.

For a moment, Jensen has no idea how to answer that question. 

_Because I **know** you. Because I feel you, all the way to my soul. Because I knew you in another life, and you meant something to me that I still don’t understand completely._

Yeah. None of that is going to fly.

Jensen tilts his head into his shoulder as he shrugs. “I like you.”

“I’m brand new to this program, Jensen.” Jared is very serious as he continues. “I just got my PhD three months ago.”

“And?” Jensen asks.

“I just…” Jared chews at his lower lip, glancing away across the room. The motion is as endearing as it is enthralling. “I thought you were messing with me earlier, in the bathroom.”

Jensen slides his barstool a little closer to Jared’s, leaning over the bar. “Show me the next step in your theory.”

Jared’s lower lip firms, and then he scribbles more math across the bottom of the napkin, muscles in his upper arm rippling.

“See… there’s no world where _that_ isn’t sexy,” Jensen drawls with reverent humor.

“Aw.” Jared’s tone matches Jensen’s as he settles back. “You _do_ appreciate me for my mind.”

“Not _just_ for your mind. Though that’s kind of sealing the deal,” Jensen informs him.

Jared’s silent, hazel eyes contemplating him for a long moment.

“Put it this way,” Jensen goes on. “I’m going to recommend to Dr. Hewlett that he bring you onto the senior team.”

Jared drops the pencil, staring at him. “You’re kidding, right?”

“No.” Jensen shakes his head. “We need people like you.”

It’s true. Even above and beyond whatever he’s feeling for Jared, it’s true. Someone like Jared _belongs_ on their team.

“You’re serious.” It’s not a question, but the look on Jared’s face says he still can’t quite believe it.

“Completely.”

Jared starts to say something, and then he closes his mouth, smiling instead.

“And you don’t think they’re all going to think you’re suggesting me because _you_ happen to think I’m hot?” Jared asks, leaning just the slightest bit closer to him.

“That has absolutely nothing to do with it,” Jensen tells him firmly. “Plus…” he adds, leaning even closer, words whispered out, “I don’t care if they do think so.”

“Jensen.” Hologram-Chad appears right beside him, practically yelling into his ear. “You are never gonna believe what I—younger me—just did in the bathroom. I mean, goddamn, I’m still good, but the _stamina_.”

Jensen turns his head, glaring at Chad.

“That’s the thing women never tell you. They’re all, ‘oh, I love you, that’s great’. But you hammer them against a bathroom stall for an hour and it’s a whole different story. They don’t even have to _say_ ‘that’s great’, because it’s kind of beyond _obvious_.”

“You’re not gonna go away, are you?” Jensen mutters, angry.

“You okay?” Jared asks, frowning.

“Fine,” Jensen replies. “Just… I came here with a friend. I should probably check on him.” 

“You mean Chad?” Jared asks. “The guy from the bathroom earlier, right? I saw him a little while ago. Did he live through his crisis over Sophia?”

“You should’ve seen it, Jen.” Chad is pumping a fist up from his side. “I was like a _machine_.”

“My spidey-sense tells me yes,” Jensen answers Jared.

“Spidey-sense?” Jared asks with a slow smile, tilting his head slightly. His hair brushes against his cheek as he narrows one eye playfully on Jensen. “You’re a Spiderman fan?”

Actually, Jensen is, and he’d love to get into this with Jared, but Chad is pumping his fist repeatedly against the air, punctuating each thrust with another word testifying to his endurance.

“Hold that thought,” Jensen says. “I’ll be right back.”

Chad keeps pumping his fist and babbling on incessantly, and Jensen ignores him as he rises from the bar stool, heading back towards the booth they’d been sitting in earlier. Past-Chad isn’t there, so Jensen heads in the direction of the bathrooms, barely making it inside the hallway before he turns on hologram-Chad.

“Dude. Did you really come here to tell me about your exploits circa 2008? Because in case you didn’t notice? I’m kind of busy.”

Chad blinks, pulling the cigarette from his mouth. “With Jared?”

“Yes. With Jared.”

“Dude…” Chad’s suddenly regarding him with a seriously intent focus. “You’re not really going down that road again, are you?”

“What road?” Jensen demands, eyes narrowing dangerously on Chad.

Chad holds up his hands like he’s absolving all responsibility. “Just… you remember how it ends… right?”

“No,” Jensen says, looking away. “I don’t. And I don’t need to, Chad, because I think maybe that’s why I’m here. To make sure things work out this time.”

“Oh, Jensen…” Chad is shaking his head, turning away.

“No. Listen to me. I’ve been thinking… I mean, Misha doesn’t have the slightest idea why I’m here. I couldn’t…” he bites down against his lower lip and sighs. “I couldn’t save my dad on my last leap… so… this… being _here_ … it has to be a gift, right? A reward. My one chance to change something for the better in my own life.”

Chad has one hand pressed against his cheek, head turning slowly back and forth as he regards Jensen solemnly, cigarette dangling from his mouth.

“Run the numbers,” Jensen says, motioning at Chad.

“Jensen.”

“Run. The. Numbers.”

Chad breathes out hard through his nose and pulls out Squishy. He taps at the screen dutifully, hand pulling the cigarette from his mouth as his brows draw together. “Misha says there’s a 12% chance that’s why you’re here.”

Jensen grits his teeth together, hands shoving at the air. “What the hell does Misha know? He’s wrong half the time, anyway.”

“He blames you for that,” Chad tells him.

“Of course he does. He’s an intelligent computer program with an ego the size of Montana.”

“You wrote him,” Chad shrugs.

“I know this is why I’m here, Chad,” Jensen says, anger draining from him suddenly as he meets Chad’s eyes. “It has to be.”

Chad nods once, still looking solemn. “I hope you’re right, pal.”

The door to the men’s room bangs open at the end of the hall, and Past-Chad explodes through the doorway, fist pumping into the air. 

“Jen _seeeeeeeen_!” Past-Chad yells, spotting him. “You should’ve _seen_ that shit. I was a _machine_.”

Jensen bites back a sigh and steels himself for round two.

*

“It’s worth bragging about.” Hologram-Chad is still trying to convince him, half an hour later.

Jensen’s too busy being upset over the fact that Jared appears to have left the bar during his absence to care.

This isn’t how it was supposed to happen. He’s sure of it even before the memory rises up and engulfs him.

_\-- By the time Jensen finally gets back to the bar, Jared’s getting up from his seat, muscles in his shoulders flexing through his shirt as he pulls the hem down against his waist. Jensen watches, transfixed, as Jared runs a hand through his hair, the edges curling, just brushing the back of his long, tanned neck, long fingers running across the bare skin before he pulls his hand away and reaches into the front pocket of his pants. The motion of his hand pulls those faded jeans tight across the firm, round curve of his ass._

_Jesus._

_He’s not the kind of guy who goes around constantly checking people out. He’s not the kind of guy who’s always looking for the bottom line. He likes guys who are witty and smart—and Jared’s both of those things, but he’s also just… insanely fucking **hot**. _

_Standing here, watching Jared move in the hazy light, Jensen can’t think past the perfect, gorgeous musculature of Jared’s body. He watches, admiring the flow and curve of Jared, the way his wide, full mouth moves as he speaks to the bartender, the way his huge fingers curl around the red credit card he hands over._

_And then it hits him, what Jared’s doing. Jared’s leaving._

_The thought propels him forward, pushing up beside Jared at the bar. “Hey.”_

_“You made it back,” Jared says, mouth broadening into a smile. “And here I thought you’d deserted me.”_

_“Chad.” Jensen delivers the word like it’s an explanation all by itself._

_Jared nods, grinning like he gets it. “I gotta get going, though. Early shift tomorrow.”--_

That… would have been nice. And somehow, Jensen screwed it up. “Dammit.”

“Dude,” Chad says, finally going serious on him. “You’ll see him tomorrow. Grab hold and man up.”

Jensen cuts his eyes sideways at Chad.

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” Chad throws a hand in the air. “Call him then, Romeo. It’s 2008, you both have cell phones.”

Jensen thinks about that for a moment, and then he pulls his phone out, dialing Jared’s number. He turns his back on Chad and walks across the open space of the bar, listening as Jared’s phone rings once, twice, three times.

“Hello?”

Jensen stops pacing, leaning his shoulder against the beam by the stairs to the dance floor. “Jared. It’s Jensen.”

There’s a slight hesitation, and then Jared says, “I thought you bailed on me.”

“Chad was… overwhelming. Sorry about that,” Jensen says, chewing on his lower lip. 

Again, there’s a hesitation. “I needed to head out anyway. Work starts early tomorrow.”

An awkward moment passes as Jensen watches a drunken couple shuffling on the dance floor. He’s more than a little drunk himself, and he’s not really sure where he meant to go with this. Just knows he couldn’t let Jared leave without saying anything at all.

“Listen,” Jensen goes on, inspiration striking him. “Since you were so helpful earlier, I wanted to get your advice on something else.”

There’s a longer pause this time. “Yeah?” 

“Well… that guy at the bar that I asked you about earlier?”

“Ohhh,” Jared says after a moment. “The hot one.”

“Yeah,” Jensen grins. “That one. I talked to him.”

“So how’d that go?”

“I think it went really well. And I think… maybe I really like him.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Jensen,” Chad sighs from behind him, sounding disgusted.

“Maybe?” Jared asks.

Jensen takes a deep breath and goes for it. 

“Maybe isn’t even close to a strong enough word. But… I’m not sure what to do about it. I don’t even know if he’s interested. It’s in the early stages.”

The silence on the other end goes on so long that Jensen checks his cell signal.

“Maybe you should ask him out.”

Jensen feels his heart lighten, smile creasing his face as he leans his forehead against the wooden beam. “You think he’ll say yes?”

“No way of knowing until you ask, right?”

Jensen nods. “You’re right.”

“And Jensen? For the record? I’m going to say yes.” 

Jensen can hear Jared smile before Jared hangs up.

“You,” Chad says succinctly from behind him, “are pathetic.”

Jensen turns on him, still smiling. “Ask me if I care.”

Chad waves a hand at him and makes a face.

Jensen ignores him, walking right through him towards the booth he and Chad had been sitting in earlier.

“I’m just saying, dude,” Chad goes on, following along behind him. “You could be a little less… _gooey_ about this whole thing. I mean, it’s not like…”

Hologram-Chad trails off as Jensen reaches the table. Past-Chad is sitting in the booth, his clothes rumpled, short hair swept messily to one side, and pretty, dark-haired Sandy is sitting beside him. She’s got one of Past-Chad’s hands between her own, held aloft in the air as she demonstrates how her theory of faster-than-light travel would work. She’s smiling as she speaks, hands sliding up along Chad’s wrist, and he seems enthralled, eyes fixed on hers.

“My God… Sandy.” Hologram-Chad’s voice is a bare whisper. He stops, hand going to his cheek and then covering his mouth. “Is this…” His voice falters for a moment, and then goes dead certain.“This is when we met.”

Not the woman from the bathroom, then. Jensen frowns, confused for a moment. 

“You work fast,” Jensen whispers.

“God. How could I have forgotten?” hologram-Chad asks, like he didn’t hear Jensen at all.

At the table, Sandy laughs, and the sound is light and girlish, rising on the smoky air. Past-Chad says something and then laughs with her, never taking his eyes off her as she releases his hand. Neither one of them appears to notice Jensen at all.

“Sandy,” Chad breathes, stepping closer to the two of them. He leans down, cheek brushing and then blurring into the lines of Sandy’s hair as he inhales deeply, eyes closing.

“Getting cree-peeey,” Jensen sing-songs under his breath, sliding his hands into his pockets.

Hologram-Chad still seems lost in his own world as he steps through the table of the booth, flat surface bisecting his body. He’s watching Sandy’s face intently, and then following the line of her arm as she points somewhere distant, speaking close to past-Chad’s ear.

“Earth to Chad,” Jensen hisses.

Chad snaps to attention, eyes focusing on Jensen for a moment before he steps back through the table.

“I gotta go,” Chad tells him, punching up the doorway on Squishy.

“Seriously? _Now_ you’re gonna leave?”

Before Jensen’s finished speaking the words, Chad has vanished.

It’s certainly not the first time Chad’s abandoned Jensen abruptly, but Jensen can’t shake the feeling that there’s something more to this. He watches as Sandy brushes her shoulder against past-Chad’s, and tries to remember something from this moment. Anything.

Nothing comes to mind. 

Jensen mentally shrugs and slides into the seat across from the two of them.

“Jensen, hey,” Chad greets him. “This is Sandy.”

Sandy reaches out and takes his hand. Her fingers are tiny, but strong and firm as she shakes his hand, and she flashes him a smile so bright that he feels momentarily blinded. 

“Hi, Jensen. Nice to officially meet you.”

Chad doesn’t resemble the guy who came bursting out of the bathroom half an hour ago at all, except that his clothes are wrinkled and his hair’s still messy. There isn’t a bit of triumph left in his expression. In fact, he’s not looking at Sandy anything like Jensen’s used to seeing Chad look at women. There’s no lust, no calculation, no putting on of any kind of cocky show. No, this is more like… curiosity?

Huh.

“Nice to meet you, too,” Jensen smiles back. “But…” he goes on as he takes his hand back, looking to Chad. “It’s getting kind of late. Shouldn’t we head back?”

Chad shifts in the booth, digging in his pants pocket. 

“Here,” Chad says, barely looking at Jensen as he hands Jensen the car keys. “You go.”

Jensen’s silent for a moment, regarding the keys in his hand. “So you’re walking back?”

“I’ll catch a ride with someone,” Chad says, hand trailing through the air as he waves off the question.

“I can’t drive, anyway,” Jensen tells him, handing the keys back. “Too much to drink.”

“I need to get back, too,” Sandy chimes in. She reaches into her purse and pulls out a pen, and then she grabs Chad’s hand without warning, writing a phone number across the back of it.

“So I should call you, then?” Chad asks, flexing his fingers as she lets go.

Sandy flashes him a grin as she tucks the pen away. “No, that’s for the cab you’re taking home.”

Chad frowns at her, bewildered for a second, and then he laughs. 

“Or you could ride with me,” she adds with a wink.

Chad glances at Jensen and Jensen nods. 

“Sounds like a plan.”

Chad rides in the front with Sandy, windows rolled down and radio turned down low, both of them talking animatedly over the sound. Chad spends an extra several minutes in the car while Jensen stands outside, studying the shape of the project complex.

They’re halfway to their rooms before Chad speaks up. “That went well, don’t you think?”

Jensen pretends to think for a second, rolling his head side to side, and then he shrugs. “You could’ve been a little less ‘gooey’ about it.”

Chad punches him in the shoulder and snorts. “Gooey,” he repeats, shaking his head. “Ass,” he adds, directing the word at Jensen.

Jensen’s mouth curls ruefully. 

He glances around, then, wondering about future Chad. He can’t quite put his finger on it, but there’s something about this whole thing that’s nagging at him.

Future Chad is nowhere to be seen, and Jensen’s sense of disquiet follows him down into sleep.

  



	3. Chapter 3

Jensen wakes, eyes blinking open to early-morning sunlight falling through the window to his left. The alarm he’d turned on before he’d fallen asleep last night is still blaring, and he reaches out, fingers pressing the off button.

The sound cuts off abruptly, and he sits up, pulling the covers back from his body. It’s 6:30am, and he needs to be in the lab by 7:15. 

He rises, walking to the bathroom and turning on the sink faucet. He grabs the glass from the back of the sink and holds it under the flow of water, letting it fill, other hand already opening the shallow mirror-cabinet. The bottle of aspirin is in his hand, thumb popping the lid with a quick, familiar gesture, and he’s shaking two pills into his mouth almost before he realizes what he’s doing.

The last five minutes of his life have been lived completely on ingrained memory. He hadn’t even had to think.

The sour tang of the aspirin on his tongue focuses his attention, making him blanch, and he pulls the glass of water to his lips, taking a long drink to wash it down.

“Must’ve spent a few long nights out drinking while I was here,” he murmurs, appraising his reflection in the mirror. His face seems to look back at him with a mocking expression as the words _well, you ARE friends with Chad_ flash through his mind in reply.

“Good point,” he admits, smiling wryly.

He shuts off the faucet, hand resting on the handle for a moment before he turns, walking out into the room. 

To the right, in the nook next to the bathroom, there’s a shelf with a row of vinyl records, turntable atop a small stereo shelf beneath. 

Damn. He’d forgotten.

He walks to the shelf, thumb trailing along the thin edges of the album covers, and suddenly he can name them almost without even looking. Every album ever made by the Beatles and the Rolling Stones, almost everything by Bob Dylan, Simon & Garfunkel and the Beach Boys. Dark Side of the Moon, The Wall, Boston… the list plays out inside his head, and suddenly he wants nothing more than to sit cross legged on the floor, albums spread out in front of him as he listens to their rich, true, resonant tones played out on vinyl. He might have been born near the end of the vinyl age, but he’d grown up for the first fourteen years of his life listening to nothing else. His father had been a man who’d liked things simple and true, and had judged eight-tracks, cassette tapes and finally, CD’s, as inferior. 

His dad wasn’t wrong about much. Most of the oldest records on this shelf are from his father’s own collection.

There’s a tape deck cassette player and a CD player on the shelves below the turntable, and a thick case holding CD’s on the very bottom shelf, but they don’t compare.

He pulls The Doors _Soft Parade_ from the shelf above, thumb and forefinger running to exactly the right spot without any help from his mind at all, and slides the album from its cover. He pushes the cover back into place, leaving it sticking out about half an inch, and slides the record from its slipcase. He sets it carefully upon the turntable, and moves the needle to the second track.

_Yeah! Come on, come on, come on, come on  
Now touch me, baby   
Can't you see that I am not afraid?   
What was that promise that you made?_

He stands there for a moment, letting the guitar and poetry wash over him, bare feet tapping out rhythm against the carpet. The music feels good, moving in his blood and in his bones, and he turns to face the rest of the room. 

The warm browns and beiges are as comforting as the charts and images on the wall, as solid and certain as the books on the shelves. The sunshine is warm against his skin, and there’s the faintest scent of aged paper hanging in the air. He lets it fill his lungs, eyes fluttering closed, music soothing him inside as it rises. 

For a moment, it almost feels like coming home.

*

He’ s singing along to the next song on the album as he stands under the spray of the shower, rinsing shampoo from his hair. For the moment, as he hits the chorus, he doesn’t mind at all that he’s going to have to fake his way through work all day. And yeah, if he’s honest, there’s a worry at the back of his mind about future-Chad’s disappearance last night. And if he’s _really_ honest, there’s a part of him that hopes future-Chad will stay away a while. He doesn’t want to know why he’s here. He doesn’t want to fix anything. Right here, right now, he’s enjoying life in a way he never could have when he was twelve years younger. 

“Are you fucking serious with this shit?” Chad demands, throwing open the shower curtain as he levels glaring eyes on Jensen. “You’re blasting _Jim Morrison_ at 7am?”

Past-Chad, he realizes, since the shower curtain actually responded to his touch.

Jensen ignores him and hums along with the bridge, rubbing conditioner into his hair.

“The Doors,” Chad says as he leans one shoulder against the tiled edge of the shower wall, arms folding across his chest as he settles in, “ _suck_. They had like, three pretty good songs, and those were the ones where Jim didn’t go all Lizard King over-the-top.”

“It’s not my fault your taste in music sucks,” Jensen informs Chad, shrugging as he runs his fingers through his hair, washing away slick conditioner.

“And somehow, I’ve still done more drugs than you ever will,” Chad comments wonderingly, shaking his head. 

“One Doors song,” Jensen demands. “There has to be one you like. Everybody’s got one.”

Chad’s got a thumb and a forefinger pressed against his temple like he’s in pain, and he’s staring at Jensen through the part between his fingers like Jensen’s some kind an idiot.

“Road House Blues. Duh.”

The words catch Jensen off guard, and he laughs. “I should have known.”

“Even Jim Morrison occasionally knows what he’s talking about.” Chad’s voice is grudging, and that just makes Jensen laugh harder.

Chad slaps his hand into the spray of water, sending it smacking into the back of Jensen’s head.

“Get dressed, asshole,” Chad tells Jensen before he turns away, disgusted. “We’re gonna be late.”

Jensen’s still chuckling as he shuts off the water.

*

The lab is bustling with activity already when they arrive.

Outside, sunlight casts long shadows of scarce shrubs across the red endless expanse of red dirt. It beams through the window, bright and vibrant, specks of dust motes dancing in the rays that cut through the glass. There are people sitting in front of computer stations, typing steadily on keyboards, gathered around tables as they discuss equations and blueprints, coffee cups steaming like smokestacks around the papers laid out before them.

The world stretches out in front of him, familiar and somehow new all at once, scent of coffee and paper and cleaning compounds heavy in the air. 

He vaguely remembers taking a moment here and there to appreciate where he was, and what he was doing, all these years ago. But there’s no way his younger self could have appreciated the way he does now. Twelve years seems so impossibly long ago. Everything, every bit of it, seems precious now in a way that wasn’t possible then.

Jensen shifts his grip on his laptop and heads for one of the terminals at the long tables, sitting down. He’s barely logged back in when one of the younger members of the team—a blond guy with green eyes that registers no impression on his memory at all—walks up and speaks to him tentatively.

“Dr. Ackles…” The guy’s eyes are wider than Jensen thinks they should be, the motion towards the papers he’s holding in his hands hesitant. “I don’t want to disturb you, but since you’re… here… I had a question.”

The guy—whose name he never does catch—sits next to him for half an hour while they review theory. Jensen makes a few corrections to the guy’s calculations and nudges him gently in the right direction. By the time they part, the guy is nodding vigorously and looking intent, heading off with determination to another terminal.

“So,” Chad’s voice cuts into Jensen’s train of thought, just as he’s getting into his morning emails. “You holding court today or what?” He slides into the chair next to Jensen and rolls close—entirely too close for Jensen’s comfort—staring over Jensen’s shoulder at Jensen’s laptop screen.

Jensen frowns, glancing over at Chad. “Court?”

“You know, for the junior team,” Chad makes an expansive gesture. “That thing you do sometimes.”

When Jensen doesn’t respond, Chad continues.

“Okay, Hewlett’s actually the king around here. You’re…” Chad hesitates, searching for the right words, “more like a god.”

Jensen can feel his cheeks heat with blood as he focuses with singular interest on his email. “I’m just a guy.”

“Not to these people. You telling me you didn’t see the stars in that kid’s eyes?”

No. No, he really hadn’t. But in retrospect…

“Don’t you have work to do?” Jensen asks.

The sound of heels clicking against the tiled floor draws his attention to the right.

Jared is dressed in the same dark slacks as the rest of them, white lab coat buttoned down over top, but damn, they must not make lab coats in Jared’s particular size, because it’s stretched tight across his chest, around his shoulders and biceps almost to the point of bursting. The brief buttoned-up black shirt collar before the vee of the white lab coat contrasts with his tanned, olive skin perfectly and he’s walking with a slow, easy gait, shoulders swinging before his hips.

Jensen can see more than a few female heads turn to follow Jared’s path towards him.

“Oh look,” Chad adds in a stage whisper as he leans further into Jensen’s space, and Jensen can tell just from Chad’s tone that he’s spotted Jared walking towards them. “More stars at three o’clock.”

“Fuck off,” Jensen whispers succinctly out the side of his mouth in Chad’s direction.

“He’s no different, dude. I’m just sayin’.”

Jensen’s fingers tighten against the keyboard, and he wants more than anything to turn on Chad and tell him how he doesn’t know anything—how this is so much more than that. But Jensen still doesn’t know _exactly_ what this is, heart rising up into his throat, beating faster in time with Jared’s steps.

“Hey,” Jared says with a tentative smile, stopping next to Jensen. “I was wondering if maybe you could help me out with something.”

 _Anything_ , Jensen thinks, before he can stop himself. He catches the thought before he can speak it and swallows it down hard.

He’s at work. He’s working, and he should be doing things of the work type variation.

“Sure. Pull up a chair,” he offers, turning in his chair to face Jared completely.

Jared’s lips part in a brief smile, and then he’s dragging a chair up alongside. Chad has receded to the background, almost non-existent, which, for Chad, is a major league fucking accomplishment.

“So,” Jared says, scooting the chair slightly closer to Jensen. “I was thinking about last night--” Jared breaks off for a second, sliding a thin stack of paper onto the table between them. He clears his throat and then goes on carefully, like he’s aware of the attention focused on them. “I was talking to this guy last night, really smart guy. And he seemed to think maybe I was on track with some of my theories. So I wanted to get your opinion.” 

Jared flashes him a smile across one massive shoulder, and Jensen’s stomach does this funny thing where it twists inside him.

Jared’s hand is already moving across a blank sheet of paper, and Jensen’s eyes are drawn to it like a magnet.

There it is; the first equation Jared had shown Jensen last night… and then the second… the third… the fourth. With each quick flick of Jared’s hand across the page, Jensen’s heartbeat speeds up a notch, head nodding completely of its own accord. Next to him, he can feel Chad sit up straighter in his seat, actually paying attention to what Jared’s doing.

Jensen licks his lips, thinking for a moment. “That’s… impressive.” It’s beyond impressive; it’s what’s going to get this whole project rolling along. “It could be the beginning of a solid theory.”

“Wait,” Chad says from beside him, one hand sliding into Jensen’s line of vision, moving across the table and turning the papers towards himself. “That’s… I never thought about that before.”

“No different, huh?” Jensen asks, turning triumphant eyes on Chad.

“Gimme that pencil,” Chad says, snapping his fingers at Jared. 

Jared hands it over wordlessly, and then Chad’s scribbling across the page beneath Jared’s handwriting. Almost before Jensen can track what he’s writing, he’s walking his fingertips back down the page, pushing it in front of Jensen.

“If that’s right… if he’s right… then _this_ makes sense.” Chad taps the final equation in the series meaningfully.

Jared is staring at what Chad wrote, pulling the paper back towards himself. “Holy _shit_. I never… that’s perfect.”

Jensen feels a strange sense of pride in both of them swelling sharp and poignant in his chest. 

“Yeah,” Jensen says, corner of his mouth curling in a smile. “It is.”

“But…” Jared’s shaking his head, frowning at the sheet of paper. “If that’s true, then… what?”

“I’ve got an idea,” Chad says, frowning intently. “But it would take more energy than currently exists. Anywhere.”

“Yeah,” Jared agrees, nodding. “You’d almost need a supernova.”

Chad and Jared regard each other curiously across the space between them.

“Maybe we should take this somewhere else,” Jensen suggests.

“Your office is empty,” Chad says, rising from his seat as he grabs the papers from the table.

Office. Right. Jensen has one. God, no wonder everyone on the floor had looked at him like he had two heads.

He doesn’t remember where it is, though, and lets Chad lead the way there.

*

Jensen’s office is like a shorthand representation of his room; walls white and carpet gray, star charts and framed math, bookshelf in the corner, a few books laid out and open against the floor, handwriting scrawling across a dry erase board to one side. He takes the eraser in his hand and wipes it across the board, erasing everything there.

They fill the space in no time with theories, but they don’t get far beyond what they’d already figured out. Jensen holds back, offering minimal input, knowing it isn’t time to step in yet, content to let them try to figure it out on their own.

“Dammit,” Chad breathes, fingers playing restlessly against the dry erase marker, hesitating.

“What we need…” Jared begins slowly, sounding tired, “is a wormhole to open up and swallow us.”

Chad presses his lips together and turns his head, squinting at Jared. “You got John Crichton on speed dial?”

Jared laughs, tipping back his head, and Jensen can’t keep his eyes from the line of Jared’s throat, the way the muscles flex around the point of his Adam’s apple, the jut of his chin, the feathering of lashes against his cheeks as he closes his eyes.

“Ah, fuck it. We’re way past closing time, anyway,” Chad goes on, capping the marker and tossing it back on the narrow ledge of the whiteboard. 

Chad turns, then, lifting his hands in the air like a maestro beginning a concert. “And now,” he says, with an elegant sweep of his hand through the air. “We celebrate.”

*

They have to go back to get Chad’s car from last night anyway, so they ride to Al’s Place with Jared, Jensen sitting quietly in the front seat, listening to Chad argue with Jared from the back about the quantum physics of Farscape.

Jensen doesn’t remember the first thing about “Chiana”, but he’s pretty sure she doesn’t have anything to do with Chad’s theory of time travel.

*

When they arrive, Chad leads the charge to the front door, shoving it open. It’s then that Jensen notices Chad’s wearing a vulgarly-colored purple collared shirt and black pants with an orange tie to top it all off. He looks like _Halloween_ with blond hair and an attitude.

“He’s… really something, isn’t he?” Jared asks as they walk into the bar.

“One of a kind,” Jensen agrees with a shake of his head. 

He remembers then that he hasn’t seen future-Chad all day, and that worries him more than he wishes it would. He’s never been good at not over thinking things, and future-Chad’s absence screams of _problems_. Chad’s never left him alone for this long before. Not even on his first leap.

His first leap. Wallpaper ducks and Chad in a zebra suit with a purple tie. It’s all right there on the edge, memory tingling at the back of his throat. 

Jared.

“Hey. You still with us?” Jared asks, light fingertips brushing his shoulder.

Jensen leans back into the touch without thinking. “Right here.”

Jared’s fingers close, tightening, and then trail away, leaving Jensen with a vague sense of disappointment.

“You want a drink?” Jensen asks, pushing back the feeling.

“Yes. Beer though,” Jared adds, and Jensen can feel his grin. “No shots tonight or I’ll be a zombie tomorrow.”

“You got it,” Jensen grins back.

Their eyes lock for a moment and Jensen wants nothing more than to taste the shape of Jared’s mouth, map out every ridge and curve of the inside. He’s so fucking beautiful.

“Stop,” Jared whispers, eyes riveted on Jensen’s.

“Stop what?” Jensen asks, voice husky, feeling half-drunk already, though he hasn’t had a drop.

“Looking at me like that.” Jared’s answer is barely breathed, heavy with want, eyes filled with indecision.

Jensen wants to lean in, wants to kiss him then and there, but everything inside him whispers that this isn’t the time.

“I’ll… get our beers,” Jensen finally replies, words rough as he turns away with every ounce of willpower inside him.

*

The bar is as busy as it was last night, and Jensen moves up, twenty caught between his fingertips, laid against the polished wood as he waits.

The bartender is dressed in a mustard yellow suit with a bright purple tie, cigar alternately clenched between his teeth or his fingertips, depending on what he needs to do at the moment. His eyes are just as dark and inaccessible as money changes hands, wrinkled face smiling at each and every customer.

“Hey, kiddo,” the bartender greets as he moves to Jensen, voice raspy and deep, eyes lighting with something beyond service-end distance as he sidles up to take Jensen’s order. 

“Hey,” Jensen greets him. “I need two draft beers.”

The bartender nods, reaching up for the beer glasses. “How’s your night tonight?”

“Even better than last night,” Jensen smiles.

The bartender’s mouth crinkles into a smile as he nods, filling one of the glasses, and then the other. “Sometimes the universe decides to reward you.”

Jensen squints at the older man, head tilting to the side.

“It’s rare,” the bartender agrees with a nod of his head. “But every now and then,” he goes on, pushing the cigar back between his lips and sliding the beer glasses onto the bar. “You get lucky.”

“Every once in a while, you deserve it,” the bartender grins, patting one hand against the polished wood of the bar.

Jensen slides the twenty across the distance, and the bartender’s fingertips land on the edge.

“Keep the change,” Jensen tells him.

Those dark eyes regard him silently for a moment, and then the other man nods.

“We’ll settle up later,” the bartender says, sliding the twenty away. And then he’s gone, moving away to serve the next customer.

Jensen closes his hands around the beer glasses and turns towards the open room.

Jared is nowhere in sight, booths backlit, glowing like hazy halos behind the screen of cigarette smoke.

Chad is there, then, palm of his hand skidding across Jensen’s shoulder blades, settling on his upper arm and pulling him in.

Jensen glances at Chad, askance. He’s… not used to Chad touching him. Honestly, he’d never figured Chad for the touchy-feely type, given Chad’s future attitude.

He looks away, fingers gripped tight around the beer glasses in his hands, and it’s then that he sees Jared, walking over from the other side of the room. Jared’s long and tall and gorgeous, moving with a confidence that somehow transcends the rest of him.

“I was wrong, dude,” Chad says, leaning closer. “He’s not just another starry-eyed worshipper.”

“Really?” Jensen demands in a “duh” tone of voice, craning his neck to look at Chad.

“Yeah,” Chad says after a moment. “He’s smart enough not to need you to succeed. He admires you; I can see it in his eyes. But he doesn’t _need_ you to make him great.”

“No,” Jensen agrees, curling his lower lip under his teeth as he smiles, watching Jared walk across the room. “No, he doesn’t.”

“You are so fucking _gone_ ,” Chad informs him, chuckling into Jensen’s ear as he claps his shoulder.

Jensen has no rebuttal for that.

*

“So tell me about yourself,” Jared says across his beer, the two of them sitting at one of the tables on the other side of the room. 

Jensen debates, fingers playing against the condensation on his beer glass. “Not much to tell. I grew up on a farm in Dallas--”

“Dallas? Really?” Jared asks, face lighting up. “I was born in San Antonio, but my mom and dad lived out in Bigfoot, Texas.”

The memory hits Jensen almost physically hard.

_What do you think about naming him Jared?_

God.

He’d been there—right there—touching Jared in the first moments of his life. 

_\--“Yeah. I was born in San Antonio, but my parents lived in Bigfoot, Texas. My dad…” Jared looks at his beer, mouth turning downward. “He died the day I was born. Trying to go get help for my mom while she was in labor. Tornado,” he adds, shrugging._

_“I’m so sorry,” Jensen tells him._

_“Shit happens,” Jared says, stoic, and Jensen thinks he understands maybe for the first time why Jared plays everything important so close to his chest.--_

He’d… God, he’s changed that.

He understands, then, that neither one of them are the people they were meant to be at this time and place. It’s all different this time around, like rolling the dice all over again.

This has to be a second chance, it has to be.

“We moved to San Antonio before I was a year old,” Jared adds, throwing back another drink from his beer. “But,” he adds, grinning, “we were talking about you.”

That grin is going to be the death of Jensen; brilliant white against soft pink lips, the way it puts dimples in the apples of Jared’s cheeks.

“Yeah.” Jensen clears his throat, searching for the thread of conversation. “I grew up in Dallas, on a farm. It was a good life, a simple one. I lived my whole childhood in one place.”

“Your parents still live there?” Jared asks.

“My, um…” Jensen’s throat tightens, and he clears it again, harder this time. “My mom does.”

“What happened to your dad?” Jared asks, so gently that it makes Jensen smile sadly.

“My dad died when I was fourteen.”

“God, Jensen. I’m so sorry,” Jared whispers, eyes intent, fingers sliding across the table to touch the tips of Jensen’s.

And now it’s his turn to be the sad one, the one who has a loss. Maybe they’d had more in common before Jensen had changed history—maybe they’d even bonded over the loss of their fathers, for all Jensen knows. But looking at Jared’s face, sad as it is in empathy, Jensen wouldn’t change what he’s done.

“It was a long time ago,” Jensen tells him.

Jared curls his lower lip to the side, upper teeth closing on it thoughtfully.

“You know… to this day, my mom tells the weirdest story about the day I was born.” Jared says. “It’s silly,” he adds, fingers flexing around his beer glass. The fingers of his other hand still rest against Jensen’s as he searches for the words.

“She says my dad _knew_ the tornado was coming that day, right after she went into labor. She said he stopped her from going for help, refused to go for help himself until after it had passed. But it hadn’t even _started_ yet when he did that.” Jared’s eyes meet Jensen’s with an uncertain smile. “If he hadn’t gotten both of them down to the root cellar… I don’t know. Maybe I wouldn’t be here today.”

Jensen’s silent for a long moment, eyes tracing out the lines of Jared’s fingernails, the way his fingertips are touching Jensen.

“What does your dad say about that?” Jensen’s voice is raspy.

Jared inclines his head towards his shoulder slightly. “He says he remembers it, but it was like it happened to someone else. Like it wasn’t really him.” Jared hesitates a moment, and then his fingertips tighten against Jensen’s, eyes meeting his.

Because it wasn’t. Because it was _me_ , Jensen wants to say more than anything. But he can’t tell Jared the truth. Not only wouldn’t Jared believe him, but he’d think Jensen was crazy. 

“That’s… sort of strange,” Jensen comments, voice carefully neutral.

“Mom said he acted weird during that whole time. She’s got this joking theory that he was replaced by an alien for a couple days,” Jared says and laughs as he leans forward, hair falling forward into his face.

Jensen wonders briefly if Jared would laugh if he knew how close to the truth his mother’s theory is.

Jared draws his fingers away from Jensen’s and Jensen is suddenly hyper-aware of the lack of Jared touching him.

“So tell me more about you,” Jared goes on. “I hear you graduated MIT two years early and have three PhD’s.”

Six, Jensen wants to correct, automatically—but no, it’s 2008, and he only has three, working on finishing his fourth.

“All true,” Jensen nods. “Chemistry, Medicine, and Quantum Physics. I’m working on my doctorate in Astronomy right now.”

“You’re amazing,” Jared tells him, eyes dark in the dim light.

“I’m human,” Jensen shrugs. “Just like you.”

“And you’re modest, too, just to top it all off.” Jared shakes his head, smiling.

“You forgot good looking,” Jensen says, and winks at him.

Jared bursts out laughing, and it’s a deep, rich sound that Jensen thinks he should make more often.

They talk for another hour and Jensen makes his way through two more beers. He’s feeling warm and more than buzzed by the time the conversation seems to wind down a little, focus shifting from their pasts. 

Jared’s looking at him thoughtfully now, fingertip circling the rim of the beer glass he’s been nursing. “You know…” he says slowly, after a moment. “It’s funny. I thought maybe if we talked, you know, got to know each other, things would be different.”

“Different how?” Jensen asks, blinking.

“I mean…” Jared rolls one shoulder as he speaks, “we hardly know each other at all, but ever since we met… I’ve had the strangest feeling about you.”

Jensen’s heart skips a beat in his chest. “How do you mean?”

“I don’t know… Comfortable,” he decides. “Like I can trust you. Like we’re… connected, somehow.”

Jensen’s throat is dry as he nods. “I feel the same way,” he confesses.

Jared just looks at him for a moment, and the corner of his mouth curls in a satisfied smile. “I guess…” he goes on, smile deepening, “I thought maybe if we talked, you know, got to know each other better… I’d be able to justify what I’ve been wanting to do all night.”

The bar falls silent in the wake of the jukebox dying out, last dollar played through.

“What?” Jensen asks when Jared leaves the sentence hanging there in the silence.

“Come on,” Jared says, grinning as he leaps up from his chair, grabbing Jensen’s hand. 

Jensen lets himself be pulled along, down the brief stairs to the dance floor. Jared’s reaching into his pocket as he leans across the jukebox, long body on complete display, blue light illuminating every dip and curve of his musculature, clinging across his lats, the bottom of his arms, the outer muscles of his thighs through his jeans. His face is dramatically lit with light and shadow as he pushes the selection button, mouth working thoughtfully, eyes squinting against the light.

“There,” he says with a satisfied smile as he steps back. 

The music is a flow of easy guitar, piano following after in a slow, jazzy groove that captures Jensen instantly, wistful, sultry, perfect female voice singing over it.

_I waited 'til I saw the sun  
I don't know why I didn't come_

Then music and the words run through him with a shiver. He remembers this; every single moment. The way the light had fallen across Jared’s skin, blue and somehow warm, resonating off the hardwood floor and filling the room like smoke. 

“Dance with me,” Jared whispers, turning to him.

Jared extends his hand, reaching out for Jensen, and there’s nothing in his eyes except longing and want. Here, in this deserted room at the corner of everything and nothing, Jared extends his hand and Jensen finally, fully, understands.

This is where it all began and never ended. Right here, in the glow of blue light wrapped around the arch of Jared’s fingers, reflected in the depths of his eyes.

_I don’t know why I didn’t come_

Jensen breathes in the smell of the bar, scent of smoke and wood polish filling his lungs. He remembers standing here twelve years ago so clearly that it _aches_ , a man on the cusp and wanting Jared so far beyond anything he’d ever felt. So confused and torn, heart pounding in his chest, and all he’d wanted to do was reach out; take Jared’s hand in his own. 

This is what he wanted—what he’s _always_ wanted. 

_I don’t know why I didn’t come_

He’d turned away then, in the past. He doesn’t remember why, but he knows that he did. Maybe he was too shy, maybe he wasn’t ready, then, but it’s been twelve years since this moment, and he’s feeling way past ready. 

His fingers close around Jared’s, wrapping around the knuckles, drawing him closer. Jared comes to him, flowing with the movement until he’s inside the circle of Jensen’s arms. He’s mesmerizing, gorgeous, so completely given to the moment, and for a split second, Jensen doesn’t know what he’s doing, heart beating like a trip hammer in his chest. All he knows is that he wants this. 

He can’t remember most of his life, but somewhere, deep down, he knows he’s never felt like this before. That he never felt like this again.

_My heart is drenched in wine  
You'll be on my mind  
Forever_

He closes his eyes briefly, trying to catch hold of his heart, turning Jared in a slow circle. The music fades away to the background, and all he can do is _feel_ , the warm perfection of Jared in his arms, the way he breathes just a little too fast, their hearts pounding out separate, hard rhythms.

“I haven’t even asked you out, yet,” Jensen whispers, voice unsteady.

“And I really want you to…” Jared tells him, fingers curling in the hollow of Jensen’s hip, lacing through the fingers of his free hand. “But it’s kind of incidental.”

“Nothing about this is incidental.” Jensen’s response is pure instinct, purred out against Jared’s chin, hand sliding down Jared’s lower back, cupping the curve of bone at the end of his spine. The blue light from the jukebox shifts as they turn, straightening into concise lines across Jared’s cheekbone, his chin, falling fractionally and fading across the swell of his mouth, the almond shaped curve of his half-closed eyelids.

“No. It isn’t,” Jared breathes. “What I feel when I’m with you…” Jared shakes his head, light brush of his mouth against Jensen’s temple. “It’s like I already know you,” he whispers, hips moving in time against Jensen’s. “Like there’s never been anyone else.”

“I don’t understand it,” Jared tells him, fingers sliding through Jensen’s grip and pulling him tight. “But I don’t care.”

Mouth hot and close against his—so close Jensen can’t think—brush of a kiss, not quite daring.

Jensen moves his feet, spinning them across the empty floor, and they move together in their own world, rhythm and cadence matching perfectly. Hips and hands and feet, swaying in time. It’s all happening way too fast, and he can’t think, can’t track, doesn’t know what he’s supposed to be doing—suddenly sure he isn’t supposed to be doing _this_ at all.

God, he can’t help it. Couldn’t stop it if he wanted to.

His fingers shake as they tighten through Jared’s, pulling him along.

_I don’t know why I didn’t come_

The final notes of the song play out quietly into the bar, hanging in the air for a moment. There’s nothing but silence then as the jukebox reaches the end of its run, the two of them left suspended in time, just looking at each other.

“Take me home with you,” Jared begs, mouth dipping lower, breathing against Jensen’s jaw. “Please.”

Jensen doesn’t have any defense against the words, ripped open and raw as a wound, staring into the steady of heat in Jared’s eyes.

“God, yes,” Jensen whispers back, turning Jared away from the dance floor.

*

Jensen’s hand is shaking as he tries to fit the key card into the slot on his bedroom door. Jared is standing right behind him, pressed so close that Jensen can feel the heat from his body, breath warm against the back of Jensen’s neck. He needs to get this door open right the hell now, or—

The light flashes from red to green and Jensen shoves the handle down, pushing the door open with relief. He doesn’t click on the overhead lights; he walks to the lamp next to the reading chair and turns it on, clicking it to the first, lowest setting. Dim yellow light fills the room, throwing dark shadows across the far walls, spilling in ripples across the comforter on the bed. The door snicks softly shut. Jared’s right behind him, so close that he’s almost touching Jensen, and Jensen takes a deep breath.

_\--The room is dark, door opening long enough to throw a rectangle of light across the bed as they stumble through the doorway, locked together in a heated embrace, mouths sealed together in molten fusion. There are no words, just quick, heavy breaths as they kiss savagely, deeply, and the urgent motions of their hands as they tug at each other’s clothing, all the while steadily staggering together towards the bed._

_They fall against it heavily, Jensen rolling on top of Jared, and Jared slides his hands down Jensen’s back, palms cupping and curving around his ass, hips grinding up into Jensen’s._

_“Feel like… I’ve been waiting… for this… forever,” Jared gasps between kisses.--_

He remembers that night—how they’d both had a hard edge of desperation to them, implicit in their every movement, tension between them building until it had finally exploded. He remembers that tenderness came later.

There was nothing like this; the slow, deep burn of Jared’s half-lidded eyes skewering his heart as he turns. They’re almost as close together as they were on the dance floor, Jared’s fingertips touching him, caught between their bodies, drawing delicate spider webs across the musculature of Jensen’s stomach, his chest. Jensen’s breathing hitches, hands gliding down Jared’s waist, palms fitting to the shape.

“You feel…” Jared whispers, eyes fluttering, and Jensen’s heart does a stuttering dance in his chest, teeth cutting into his lower lip. Jared is touching him, tracing the outline of Jensen’s muscles, his deft, delicate, huge hands all over Jensen, and Jensen’s skin erupts in chills, goose bumps scattering down the line of his spine.

“Wanted to do this all night,” Jared breathes, words flowing heatedly across Jensen’s lips, and Jensen can’t help himself, drawn into the pull, head tipping up and back, lips meeting Jared’s almost gently.

Jared makes a small sound in his throat that takes the express line from Jensen’s ears straight to his cock—but that isn’t what he’s focusing on right now—isn’t what he _wants_ to focus on right now, because… Jared’s lips part, opening for him, warm softness of them pressed against Jensen’s, their tongues meeting in a slow, sweet swirl, each of them tasting the other the same way they’d danced earlier, giving and taking. 

Jensen angles his face, jaw opening wider, pushing up as he deepens the kiss, tongue mapping out the ridges in the roof of Jared’s mouth, tip flashing against the sleek inside of Jared’s cheek, Jared’s arms wrapping around Jensen and pulling him in, breathing out hard.

“Want you.” Words whispered into Jensen’s mouth, tongue flashing hot across his lower lip with a sharp nip of teeth. “Feel like I’ve been waiting… forever.”

Jensen moans, hands moving lower, fingers gripping Jared by the hips, thumbs hooking through the belt loops in Jared’s jeans. Hearts beating out of time, tongues intertwined in a messy tangle, he turns them towards the bed, walking Jared backwards until they fall against the mattress. Jared’s surging against him instantly, hot, thick line of his cock grinding against Jensen’s thigh, arms wrapping around Jensen and pulling him in.

Twelve years, and Jensen’s head is spinning, lost in the feel of Jared underneath him, the smoothness of his skin beneath Jensen’s fingertips, the way his mouth slots against Jensen’s before it slides away, lower lip dragging away across his cheek. The want between them rises, so palpable that Jensen feels like he can barely breathe.

He pulls back enough that he can tug Jared out of his clothes, tanned, perfect skin and chiseled muscle revealed one tantalizing inch at a time, and Jensen can’t keep his mouth from it, kissing and biting, tongue laving over every bit of exposed skin. Jared’s twisting underneath him, skin burning up; shimmering with a thin sheen of sweat by the time Jensen’s got him naked. He doesn’t want to stop touching Jared, tasting him, feeling him, not even long enough to pull out of his clothes, until Jared’s practically vibrating underneath him, begging him in ragged whispers.

Jensen breathes in deep and sits up, hands grabbing the hem of his t-shirt and stripping it away in one quick tug. Fingers working the button on his jeans, pulling the zipper down, dragging them down his hips—and then he stops, heart pounding in his chest as he meets Jared’s eyes. 

Jared’s face is flushed, cheeks deepening to the same pink as his wide, luscious mouth, lips parted as he pants, gazing up at Jensen through the fringe of his lashes. He’s hugely built and intricately carved, every line of him as perfect as if designed by Michelangelo’s hand. Skin tanned and glistening, warmed by the yellow light that drifts across the curves of his muscles, shadow cutting deep into the valley between his perfect abs, down the inside bone of his hip to the inner crease of his thigh. His cock is just as massive as the rest of him, rock hard and curving against his belly, tip crowned with pearly beads of pre-come.

“God. You’re gorgeous,” Jensen says, words almost choked.

“Look who’s talking,” Jared practically purrs, eyes raking over Jensen’s body with unabashed appreciation.

Jensen pushes his jeans down to his knees and then leans forward, hands on either side of Jared’s shoulders, kicking the rest of the way out of his jeans and underwear, mouth melding against Jared’s in a searing kiss. Hand fumbling to the drawer of the nightstand beside the bed, searching desperately for the lube and condoms he knows are there—the ones he almost never uses but keeps just in case, and he pulls them blindly from the drawer, clutching them in one hand, condom caught against the curve of the bottle… and then, finally…

God, both of them naked, and the feel of Jared’s skin against his is intoxicating, smooth and wet with light sweat, gliding and slipping, familiar and new all at once. Jensen kisses out slow, mouth dragging across the point of Jared’s chin, tongue drawing a line down his throat, flashing out across his collarbone, swirling over one dark pink nipple, upper teeth grazing the hardened tip as he licks lower still, down through the space between Jared’s perfect stomach muscles, flickering out to taste the salty beads of pre-come, teasing down the outer edge of Jared’s cock. 

Every shiver, every twist and shudder of Jared’s body beneath him is a sweet reward, Jared’s fingernails digging into his shoulders, thumbs digging into the space between collarbone and neck muscle. Jensen trails lower, laying the lube and condom aside, hands sliding up the silky skin underneath Jared’s thighs, pushing them up and apart, tip of his tongue dragging down the exposed crease, curling against the rim for an instant before it unfurls, Jared gasping in a jagged breath, fingers twitching violently in Jensen’s shoulders. He wriggles the tip, letting it slip just inside, and Jesus, Jared’s so hot inside he feels like he’s on fire, muscles flexing around Jensen's tongue as he pushes deeper.

“Driving… me… crazy,” Jared chokes out, body shoving against Jensen’s chin, trying to take him even deeper. He’s so hot, so passionate and raw, and Jensen can hardly stand it. He’s been ignoring his own needs up until now, lost in the experience of Jared’s body, but the sounds Jared’s making as Jensen takes him with his tongue go right to his gut, rock hard cock twitching with want.

He gives Jared one last thrust with his tongue, hands moving to find what he needs, licking out with a swirl across the skin as he rolls the condom on. Flick of the lube lid as he paints a slow trail up Jared’s cock with his tongue, fisting slick up the length of his cock as he kisses back up Jared’s body to his mouth.

“You’re still going to respect me in the morning, right?” Jared asks, eyes hazy with want, his smile teasing.

“That,” Jensen’s voice is thick with promise, hands sliding down to grip the round curve of Jared’s ass, “is the very least of what I’m going to do to you in the morning.”

Jared shudders, moaning into him, and God, he feels _good_ , hard, round muscles cupped in Jensen’s hands, flexing against him as Jared grinds into Jensen’s dick. It’s so hot that Jensen has to bite down hard, trying not to come then and there. Cock head pressing wet between the heat of Jared’s legs, and he takes Jared’s face between his hands, thumbing Jared’s jaw open and angling his mouth so Jensen can kiss down into deep into him, hips pushing forward. 

Jared rumbles a purring, groaning sound into Jensen’s mouth as he thrusts, eyes rolling back in his head as he rushes to fill Jared, searing hot muscles gripping him like a velvet fist, arms wrapped around him and pulling him in tight. Connected at every point, skin to skin, mouth to mouth, hip to hip, so much history, so long wanting, and Jensen’s gone, lost in the sensation, everything he ever wanted right here, wrapped around him.

He dips his head, kisses Jared with a brush of his lips, and Jared shivers, exhaling raggedly against him.

“Wanted you so bad…” Jared whispers fervently. “Wanted this so much… ever since I first saw you.”

Jensen’s eyes flicker open, meeting Jared’s, and Jared’s wide open, everything shining in his eyes, raw heat and want, something deeper just behind.

He moves then, hips slowly pulling back, and Jared’s head tips against the pillow, eyelashes fluttering, fingers curling into Jensen’s hips. He rolls his hips and changes the angle as he thrusts, every sound Jared makes half-remembered and half-discovered, eyes drinking in every expression on his face, lips stealing the whimpers from his mouth. He’s so beautiful, perfect and…

And…

Jensen loves him.

He loves Jared. The revelation isn’t surprising, but it still hits him like a sledge hammer, leaving him breathless and frozen. Love reaching back so far through the years that it feels like it’s always been part of him. Tainted with sadness, tattered and torn by the past, but it’s raw and overpowering, as intense as the moment he realized it for the first time, intensified even more by then and now together as he realizes it all over again. Heart bursting open, turning inside out, and the words rise to his lips, so natural and so very, incredibly _important_.

“Jensen.” Name murmured out against his mouth, hands clutching at him desperately, almost senselessly, pulling him back into the moment.

He wants to speak, but he can’t; it’s too much and too soon. He closes his eyes and bites the words back.

He writes them instead, branding them against the skin of Jared’s throat with lips and teeth, painting them with the touch of his hands, sealing them with every thrust of his hips. Jared moaning underneath him, body stretching, flexing and rocking into the angle of Jensen’s hips, and Jensen moves faster, driving deeper. Quickening rhythm between the two of them, and Jensen feels everything that’s right in it, everything reaching back through time, the perfection of Jared’s hair through his fingers, the slide of his skin against Jensen’s, hands and body gripping him tight.

His belly is filled with heat, every nerve stretched thin and taut as thread, on the verge of snapping, and he jerks his hips in a double-thrust, driving home deep, fingers sliding up the length of Jared’s cock, squeezing and flexing. Jared stiffens, seizing all around him, body clamping down as he comes, spilling in slick waves over Jensen’s fist, Jensen fucking him even harder, mouth falling hot and wet against Jared’s.

Liquid heat and jagged fire, and Jared is coming apart underneath him, head shoved back into the pillow, pink mouth spilling open wide in a burst of sound, shaking and shivering and so goddamned beautiful. Jensen feels the world narrow to the space between his thighs, to the feel of Jared writhing against him, memory and reality overlapping, converging and—

This. It’s always been this. Always been Jared.

“Wanted you,” Jensen grates the words out raggedly, gasping for breath. “Waited for you… so long,” taste of Jared’s mouth, bittersweet. “Never going to regret it,” he promises. “No matter…” twist and grind and push, “what…” kiss and caress and squeeze, “happens.”

He sinks his teeth into Jared’s lower lip, wrist working a mindless rhythm as his hips stutter and then surge, coming so hard that everything else falls away except the scent and feel of Jared wrapped all around him, whole body pulsing, breathless and endless, instinctive rhythm carrying him through each burst.

Mouth skidding against Jared’s as he slows, and Jared groans back, cock twitching inside Jensen’s fist. Neither of them ready to be done, hands and mouths greedy for more, slowly subsiding as they ride out the aftershocks together, until at last they lie still against the mattress, breathing and sweating out hard.

Their bellies are wet, pressed together around Jensen’s fist still holding Jared’s softening cock, and Jared’s pupils are blown wide, thin rim of hazel clinging to the edges as he stares up at Jensen.

“You’re…” Jared whispers, jaw working for a moment. “I didn’t think you’d…” 

Jensen really wants Jared to finish that sentence, but he isn’t sure he can bear it. Isn’t sure he can hear it without saying exactly what he feels right now. He needs… he just needs a minute to get his head straight.

“Just…” Jensen breathes, head dipping to kiss Jared’s mouth again, “let me get cleaned up.”

Jared nods wordlessly, and Jensen carries the look in his eyes all the way to the bathroom.

*

He peels off the condom, throwing it in the trash, and cleans up in the sink, telling himself again and again that this is the first time Jared’s ever experienced this; that he has no idea how Jensen feels, memories pushing on his heart and spinning it over the edge. He splashes water over his face and takes his time, just breathing for a few moments. By the time he’s finishing, washing his hands in the sink, he’s feeling calm, almost normal again. He turns, reaching for the towel—

His heart jerks in his chest as he registers someone standing there that isn’t Jared—and everything falls into place before he can throw a punch.

Chad is dressed in white pajamas with vertical black stripes, and if it weren’t for the unfortunate choice of the fluffy, royal purple night-robe and matching slippers, Jensen might be reminded simply of old-fashioned prison uniforms instead of the goddamned _Hamburglar_.

“You forgot your mask,” Jensen mentions, conversationally.

Chad squints at him suspiciously through a cloud of cigarette smoke. “What the hell have you been doing, Jensen?”

“Take a peek,” Jensen says, tilting his head at the wall next to the door.

Chad pushes his face through the wall and then yanks back like he’s been burned, clapping a hand over his eyes. “Thanks, dude. That’s never coming out, not even with bleach.”

Jensen shrugs, unapologetic. “You asked.”

“Don’t get snotty with me. Misha woke _me_ up out of a dead sleep because the probability rates for everything in the future have been jumping all over the place.”

That... doesn’t sound good.

“What probability rates, exactly?” Jensen asks, leaning back against the sink.

Chad makes a motion with his hand. “Everything,” he reiterates, and then frowns, tapping Squishy’s screen a few times in quick succession. “You and Jared, mostly,” he amends, sounding suddenly subdued as he reads the screen. 

Jensen takes a moment to appreciate that. “I might be a lot more careful if I knew exactly what the hell you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, well, the problem is...” Chad only hesitates a moment before he continues, “we don’t have a whole lot for you, yet.” A moment passes, and then Chad rolls his eyes at someone or something Jensen can’t see. “Shut up, Misha. I got this.”

Jensen taps one foot slowly against the floor, arching an eyebrow at Chad.

“Dammit,” Chad grumbles. “I _know_ , but I can’t just…” 

Chad trails off, face going incredulous. 

“Chad,” Jensen hisses, trying to get his attention. “What the fucking fuck?”

Chad thrusts a single hand at Jensen, palm and fingers turned out flat, eyes still turned toward the ceiling, ears listening to someone or something in the future. 

Misha. Jensen had forgotten until now that Misha can speak in addition to calculating and sending data, and from the length of Chad’s silence, Chad’s getting an earful right now.

“No,” Chad says, shaking his head succinctly. “I’m not gonna--”

Chad breaks off, and there’s a long silence as Chad’s face slides from conflicted to furious.

“Oh, that’s it,” Chad grates out, almost certainly cutting Misha off abruptly. “Three years of you, and I’m snapping. I _cannot_ work under these conditions.” Chad throws up his hands, and with that, he punches Squishy’s screen and opens the doorway, disappearing before Jensen can say another word.

Jensen wonders briefly if Chad and Misha are having some sort of lover’s spat.

The thought almost makes him smile. It almost even assuages the instinctive warning he feels deep in his gut over Chad’s reaction. 

He wishes he knew what was going on almost as much as he’s glad he doesn’t.

*

The room is quiet except for steady breathing when he steps out and shuts off the bathroom light. He walks to the bed, drawing back the corner of the comforter and sliding beneath it. Jared’s body is still radiating heat, and Jensen curls against him instinctively, bodies slotting together.

He slings an arm around Jared’s chest and pulls him skin to skin—and a few seconds later, Jared’s fingers lace through his, closing tight.

He should feel horrible for the way he’s trying to ignore everything that could go wrong with this leap. He knows he should. But Jared’s fingers are intertwined through his, their hands curled palm to palm against Jared’s chest, bare bodies spooned together, and he can’t help it.

The peace of Jared against him carries him down into sleep.

*

He blinks awake to early morning sunlight slanting in through the mostly closed blinds of his bedroom, fingers laced through Jared’s still, arm wrapped around Jared’s stomach, though Jared’s turned on his back now. He turns his face against the pillow, wanting to see Jared’s face.

Jared’s already awake, looking back at Jensen with a slow grin.

“Morning.”

“Mmm,” Jensen hums, slow, sensuous kiss pressing against Jared’s mouth. “Morning.”

His cock’s already hard, pressing up against Jared’s thigh, and Jared hums back into his mouth, tongue pushing inside, exploring slowly. Jared rolls onto his side, hard line of his cock rubbing up against Jensen’s, and Jensen’s hips thrust instinctively against the friction, mouth fused to Jared’s, hands gliding down his back, tracing out the exquisite musculature there before he gives in completely. 

Grinding into the friction of Jared’s cock against his, both of them fucking into each other slowly and gloriously, moaning and sighing into each other’s mouths. Jensen’s fingers clench in the muscles of Jared’s ass as Jared comes, spurting thick across his belly and cock, friction suddenly sleek and effortless, Jared’s fingernails cutting patterns across his shoulders. Jensen comes just behind him, hips shuddering helplessly in to the feel.

They come down slow, kissing until they’ve wrung every bit of pleasure they can out of each other.

When Jared’s eyes finally flicker open, Jensen’s been watching him a while.

“I was… before… I was looking at the star chart… on the ceiling,” Jared says, turning over onto his back.

Jensen stays on his side, pressing a kiss against Jared’s throat.

“I don’t know anything about the constellations,” Jared adds with a shudder against Jensen’s mouth. “I know the big dipper, the little dipper and Orion. That’s it.”

“My dad,” Jensen whispers. “He was the one who taught me all the constellations.”

“Tell me,” Jared asks, without asking, and Jensen’s mouth curves into a smile against his skin.

*

He tells Jared about all the astrological signs outlined in the stars, about Andromeda, and Cassiopeia, and Hercules, pointing out their places in the sky. 

“And that,” Jensen says, pointing along another line of stars, “is Cygnus, the swan, diving through the river of the Milky Way.”

Jared squints for a moment, following the line of Jensen’s finger, and Jensen watches Jared’s face—sees the moment the pattern coalesces before his eyes.

“It’s my favorite constellation… one of my favorite stories… not one of the most dramatic, but…”

“And you’re going to tell it to me, right?” Jared asks, turning his face towards Jensen’s with a slow, lazy smile.

Jared, here in his bed, warm and naked against him. He could think of better things to do. “Only if you want,” Jensen smiles back.

“I want.” Jared doesn’t look away as he stretches, rolling over onto his side, forearm resting across Jensen’s stomach, fingertips grazing Jensen’s side.

Jensen stares into the warm glow of Jared’s eyes. “The story goes... that Apollo’s son, Phaeton, tried to drive Apollo’s sun-chariot across the sky. Apollo warned him not to drive too close to the Earth or else it would be set on fire. But Phaeton lost control of the wild horses, and to spare the Earth from destruction, Zeus threw a lightning bolt at Phaeton, throwing him into the river Eridanus. The horses climbed higher into the sky, scorching the path that became the Milky Way. Cygnus dove repeatedly into the river to try to retrieve his friend and bring him back to Olympus… but he failed. Zeus was so impressed with Cygnus’ devotion to Phaeton that he turned Cygnus into a swan, allowing him to dive more easily. Eventually, the Gods granted him a place of honor in the night sky, diving eternally through the Milky Way in symbolism of what he had done for Phaeton.”

Jared squints at Jensen lightly, corners of his mouth turning upward in a slight smile. “I’m not buying that Phaeton and Cygnus were just friends.”

“I never did either,” Jensen smirks.

Jared thinks for a long moment, teeth tugging at his lower lip. “Did Cygnus ever find him?”

“What do you think?” Jensen asks.

Jared’s expression sobers then, softening. “I think the Greeks should have written something besides tragedy.”

“Cygnus never gave up,” Jensen tells him. He bites at the inside of his jaw, head turning against the pillow to look up at the constellation. “He kept trying, long after everyone else had given Phaeton up for lost.”

“It still sucks,” Jared whispers, body shifting against Jensen’s as he looks back up at the star chart. “He never found him.”

“Maybe he will,” Jensen’s mouth pulls in a slow, sad smile. “One day.”

“You’re kind of a hopeless romantic, aren’t you?” Jared asks, and Jensen can hear as much as see his smile.

“Little bit,” Jensen agrees with a nod.

“I like that about you,” Jared says, turning to kiss him.

 _What happened to you?_ , Jensen wonders, chest suddenly aching. _Why did you go away?_

It doesn’t matter, he decides after a moment. 

Because he’s not going to let it happen this time.


	4. Chapter 4

Jensen lets Jared shower first, lying in bed with his hands clasped behind his head as he ponders the constellations above him. He’s got time—they both do. It’s Saturday morning, and they’re both off work unless they’re called. 

He’s trying to focus on the star chart in front of him, but he wants, more than anything right now, to go join Jared in the shower. To slide up behind him and take the washcloth from his hand, glide it down his stomach, mouth pressing kisses against the wet, hot skin of Jared’s neck.

_So do it._

Why shouldn’t he? Maybe his younger self never would have dared… but he hasn’t been thirty in a long time. 

The water to the shower shuts off before he can move, though, and he’s left, lying between the sheets, wanting.

It’s a few minutes before Jared emerges, clad in nothing but a towel slung haphazardly around his waist. He walks into the room and all Jensen can do is watch him, the play of muscles beneath the skin, the way that delicious line runs down the inside of his hip, catching shadow in varying degrees.

Jared’s neck cranes, taking in the room for the very first time, lingering on the corner nook.

“Wow,” Jared breathes after a second. “Vinyl? Really?” He moves across the room with slow steps, fingers reaching out to touch the records before he stops, drawing up short.

“Can I… Could I play something?” he asks, turning to Jensen with an almost boyish smile.

There are exactly two people Jensen trusts with his record collection; his dad’s been dead for more than a decade, and the other is standing right here in the room. 

“Anything you want.”

Jared’s face lights up like a kid in a candy store, and he turns away, all of his attention riveted on the row of records.

He’s so beautiful, towel circled around his waist, tucked and cinched just at the edge of his lower back, muscles rippling in the early morning light. All Jensen can do is watch him, eyes clinging to the places where he moves, massive and somehow graceful, fingers trailing along the worn edges of the covers, sunlight playing over the muscles in his forearm. Such sensitive, careful touches, delicate play of skin against cardboard, and finally, his fingers land atop the row, rolling the top corner of one record from the rest.

Jensen knows instantly which album it is, and he waits to see what song Jared will play.

Jared sets the needle down just after the first song, and Jensen feels the first notes of warm guitar fill the room.

_Something in the way she moves…  
Attracts me like no other lover._

Jared turns toward Jensen and extends his hand.

Jensen rises from the bed, naked and completely unselfconscious, dust motes curling on the morning sunshine slanting through the blinds. Scent of soap and shampoo filling him as he takes Jared in his arms, dusty comfort of books buried just beneath, musky smell of sex tugging at the edges, arms wrapping around Jared’s bare waist. Jensen feels like he’s right where he’s always belonged as he steps into Jared’s embrace, fingertips closing on the space above the end of Jared’s spine, tugging him in, cheek turning against Jared’s, chin nudging against Jared’s shoulder.

He pulls back to look up into that beautiful face before he turns them slowly, right hand guiding Jared’s hips with the motion.

“It’s my favorite Beatles song,” Jared confides, his smile boyish. “I know,” he says, shrugging and ducking his head to the side. “I know it’s not a prime choice, not even a usual choice, but there’s just… this _feel_ to it,” he says, meeting Jensen’s eyes intently as they sway together. “So full of wistfulness and longing.” Hand running down Jensen’s back, around his side, thumb catching at the edge of his hip, those eyes focused on his.

“Even though it’s so new,” Jared says, lowering his voice, “it just… feels inevitable. Like even though he’s not sure yet, this is it.”

Jensen swallows hard, nodding. It’s so difficult to look at Jared right now, almost impossible, and all he can do is hold on. 

Memory sweeps through him, unbidden.

_\--“Wow. Vinyl? Seriously? I haven’t seen records in forever,” Jared says, looking at the shelf with something like longing._

_“You can play something if you want,” Jensen tells Jared, watching the way he moves on in the early morning light, reaching for his clothes and tugging on his jeans._

_Jared seems to think for a moment, and then smiles, slowly. “You pick.”_

_Jensen rises from the bed, pulling on his own jeans, and moves the collection of records, knowing which song he wants. He pulls out the album, settling it onto the turntable, needle hitting the groove on the second track as he releases it gently._

_‘Dear Prudence  
Won’t you come out to play?’--_

He’d wanted Jared to open up to him so much—God, it was all he’d wanted.

And here Jared stands, right in front of him, willing and open and gorgeous, moving in his arms and meeting his eyes—not just without hesitation, but with want. His face is drenched in sunlight, skin glowing golden, smooth and perfect, hazel rims a thin ridge around his pupils, light refracting so brightly that they look lit from within. He’s so beautiful, so warm and present in Jensen’s arms and Jensen can see something even deeper than want in those eyes, echoes of the past shivering through him.

It wasn’t like this before, not this soon.

“What are you thinking about?” Jared asks, eyes glinting playfully as he examines Jensen’s expression.

“You,” Jensen answers, truthfully.

Jared curls his tongue against the inside of his cheek, ducking his head slightly as he glances down, smiling. “Yeah? Anything in particular?” 

“Just…” Jensen shakes the past from his mind, focusing on that beautiful face. “How right it feels. Being here with you… like this.”

“Funny,” Jared says, meeting his gaze. “I was just thinking the same thing.”

“Jared,” Jensen whispers, name breathed out across Jared’s mouth. “I…”

The door to Jensen’s room is thrown open, and Chad strides in.

“Okay, lovebirds,” Chad announces with grandeur, stopping halfway toward them. “Tuck your shit in and get ready. Because today? We’re going to town.”

“Your timing just never gets any better,” Jensen mutters. 

A smile curls the edge of Jared’s mouth, sweet and endearing, his eyes fixed on Jensen’s. “We’ll finish this later,” he whispers, lips finding the edge of Jensen’s jaw before he steps away. 

Chad waves a distracted, dismissive hand in Jensen’s direction as he pulls his cell phone from one pocket. “Yeah, yeah. You can fuck like bunnies later.”

“I hate you in every universe, ever,” Jensen condemns.

“Only in one universe, until you prove different, genius,” Chad corrects, smirking as his thumbs move across the screen.

Jensen sighs, resigned, as he moves to the foot of the bed. His jeans are crumpled on the carpet, velvety, light blue mess that he pulls into shape, sliding them up his calves, past his thighs, stomach curling inward as he pulls them just below his hips. He leaves the button and zipper undone. His eyes follow Jared as Jared moves through the room picking up his clothing, Jensen’s head turning to follow his path the bathroom. Jared’s so gorgeous, towel draped low around his hips, nearly falling off as he reaches back, closing the bathroom door behind him.

The snick of the door brings Jensen back to the moment, pushing down annoyance as he remembers he _could_ have been tugging that towel away, mouth tasting every inch of that bare, tanned skin.

“Is there a reason you didn’t knock?” Jensen finally asks, head swiveling to look at Chad over his shoulder.

Chad doesn’t look up from his phone, but he lets go of it with one hand, reaching into his pocket and tugging something out. He holds up Jensen’s spare key card between his first finger and thumb, letting it swing back and forth through the air, thumb of his other hand typing away.

That’s when Jensen notices what Chad’s wearing—and how he missed it before, he has no idea—because Chad’s dressed in yellow pants and a black button down shirt patterned randomly in yellow, red, white and blue letters, a cheetah print tie pulled down the center. His belt and shoes are an obnoxious red that matches the exact shade of red in his shirt.

“You look like a circus clown vomited on you,” Jensen informs him. “During a Siegfried and Roy show.”

Chad blinks at his phone, unaffected. “Could you hurry the fuck up already, Perez Hilton?”

In the background, Paul McCartney is singing about Maxwell’s silver hammer. Jensen lifts the needle from the record and puts the album away, sliding the vinyl between thin, crinkly paper, slipping it back inside the case. He places it back on the shelf, fingers lingering, location of every album there known to him.

It’s so strange. He can remember every artist and album name—barely has to move his hand to find what he wants. He can remember the names of all the constellations, where they fit into the sky, remember every equation it took to bring him here, twelve years in the past. But he can’t remember a single thing that happens between him and Jared after this morning.

“Why don’t I remember?” Jensen asks quietly, words rising almost reluctantly in his throat as he turns toward Chad.

Past-Chad. Jensen realizes his mistake a beat too late, sudden fear threading his veins.

Nothing but Chad’s eyes move, rising from the screen of his phone to look at Jensen.

“Seriously, dude? You brought him home last night and you don’t even _remember_?”

Jensen breathes out slow, trying not to look relieved. “No. I didn’t--nevermind.”

The door to the bathroom opens, but Jared doesn’t emerge right away. Jensen walks, bare feet shuffling across the carpet until Jared comes into view. Jared’s dressed, fingers running through the damp length of his hair, gazing at his reflection in the mirror as Jensen walks closer.

Smell of shampoo and old paper mingling on air still-humid from the shower, Jared’s lips parting in a slow smile as he turns his head to look at Jensen. 

Jensen loves him, loves him so completely that the words well on his lips, trapped behind a bittersweet smile.

It doesn’t matter if he can’t say it. He’s here, and Jared’s standing right here in front of him. He has time. _They_ have time.

“I was wondering,” Jensen says, trying to find the right words. “If maybe you’d like to go to lunch with me? Maybe catch a movie together?” Jensen folds his arms across his bare chest, leaning against the frame of the bathroom door.

Jared’s hands fall from his hair.

“Are you asking me out on a date?” Jared asks with mock-surprise, hazel eyes wide. Everything in his expression is warm and open, and Jensen feels a tension in his stomach suddenly release, like a breath held too long.

“I know you’re shocked,” Jensen agrees, smirking. “And I don’t usually ask a guy on a date until at least the third time I’ve slept with him, but…” Jensen trails off and then pauses, pretending to think. “Wait…” 

Jared laughs, stepping closer to Jensen, shaking his hair back out of his eyes. “Well, then I’m flattered,” he grins. “I’d love to.”

Jensen reaches out and tucks Jared’s hair behind his ear, thumb smoothing along the outer shell. It feels like a practiced gesture, something Jensen’s done a thousand times before, muscle memory guiding him as naturally as breathing, and yet Jensen knows he’s never done it before now, head tilting, angling to kiss the corner of that gorgeous smile.

It’s habit and it’s brand new, and Jensen can’t remember a single time when he did this; just knows that he did.

Jensen can see the surprise reflected clearly in Jared’s eyes, one of them half-squinting at Jensen with curiosity as he draws back. 

_Stupid_ , he chides himself. Jared doesn’t remember anything.

“Sorry,” Jensen says, fingertips twitching as he pulls away. 

“No.” Jared’s smile is brilliant, almost blinding as he shakes his head, half-puzzled and entirely enamored. “I like it.”

He leans in, kissing Jensen, fingers curling in the edge of Jensen’s open jeans, fingernails brushing against the sensitive skin, and suddenly Jensen isn’t thinking lunch or movie thoughts—more like shower thoughts, and how Jared could probably use another one, with Jensen playing a major role.

“I can hear you, you know,” Chad calls from the bedroom. “I hear sucking sounds.”

Jesus, Chad. Fine.

“Don’t worry,” Jensen calls back. “That’s just your life.” The words are delivered in a “your mom” style of deadpan, and Jared breaks away from Jensen, one hand pressing against his mouth, choking back silent laughter.

“Okay, that’s it,” Chad declares, footsteps stomping towards the bathroom.

“Shit. He’s after me,” Jensen whispers, still deadpan.

Jared shakes his head, mirth not fading from his eyes at all, and then steps forward, straightening to his full height, chin held high, looking back dramatically over his shoulder from the doorway.

“Never fear,” he winks, playfully. “I’ll protect you.” 

Swinging an imaginary cape over his shoulders, Jared strides out into the room, yanking the door shut behind him.

Jensen watches him go, heart wistful and filled with something like pride and joy, phantom, nearly forgotten pain lodging beneath his ribs.

Jensen ignores the sensation. Because Jared fits. God, he fits so fucking perfectly.

Jensen turns on the water to the shower, smile still twisting his lips.

*

When Jensen emerges from the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist, Chad and Jared are laid out on top of the comforter on the bed, each with a laptop spread across their thighs, fingers hitting the keys furiously.

“You are so going down, bitch,” Chad hisses, fingers making an impressive sweep across the keys.

“In your dreams,” Jared shoots back, far more calm as his fingers dance over the keys. “Oh, wait. Are you dead? Shit, I’m _sorry_.”

“Asshole,” Chad hisses through clenched teeth, hands pounding the laptop.

“Oh, look,” Jared says, with completely fake congeniality. “Is that a sniper rifle? I’ve always wanted a _sniper rifle_ ,” he purrs, fingers sliding across the keyboard.

“Your ass is _mine_ ,” Chad promises with renewed vengeance, punching a button to restart the game.

“I don’t know, man…” Jared says, nonchalant, with a snap-click of a key combination, “’Cause that looks like your head right there in my brand new, pretty little sniper sight.” Jared’s voice is a deliciously playful sing-song, and Jensen just has to stop and admire it, standing there near the bedside, body dripping water into the carpet.

Jared’s eyes flicker up to register Jensen, distracted for a split second, fingers still working—

The sound of gunfire explodes, tinny and dissonant from the laptop—the span of a heartbeat, Jared just staring at him, fingers still now.

“God _dammit_ ,” Chad yells, and Jensen thinks maybe he’s about to throw the laptop across the room.

“Halo three?” Jensen asks.

Jared nods, smiling indulgently. “I have a sniper rifle.”

He’s entirely too damned adorable, and Jensen bursts into laughter, shaking his head. “I need to get dressed. Before this turns into an actual bloody situation.”

“I’ll keep him busy,” Jared says, winking. And then he turns, speaking over his shoulder at Chad. “You heard him,” Jared says, voice gruff. “We’ve got five minutes. Lock and load.”

“Already on it,” Chad promises.

*

“I would’ve so had you,” Chad hisses, pushing the elevator button.

“Whatever gets you through the night, dude,” Jared says with a smile.

Chad narrows his eyes on Jared, and to anyone else, it would look like pure “guy” posturing, but Jensen knows Chad. There’s admiration flickering at the edges of Chad’s disgruntled expression, a grudging acceptance.

“Where’d you learn to play like that?” Chad asks, like he’s not really interested.

“All that got me through a lot of lonely nights at M.I.T.,” Jared answers. There’s something in the way he speaks, a secret hidden behind the honest words. Jensen stares at Jared, and he can… _almost_ remember…

The elevator dings as they reach level three, and Chad leads the way off the elevator, guiding them through the twists and turns of the complex. He stops in front of a door, rapping his knuckles against the door.

“Hey guys.” Sandy is beautiful as she opens the door and steps into the hallway, all dark hair, pink lip gloss and skinny jeans, door to her room swinging shut behind her. Her smile is brighter than the fluorescent lights above them, tiny fingers lacing through Chad’s, threading them together.

Jensen watches her tug Chad close as they turn, falling into step, and he sees the look on his best friend’s face. 

Chad’s star-struck, lost in the brilliance of her smile, smiling back like Jensen’s rarely seen.

“Something wrong?” Jared asks in a near-whisper beside him.

Jensen watches Chad and Sandy turn as one and begin walking down the hall, hands swinging lazily between them, faces tilting toward each other as they talk.

He’s spent years listening to Chad’s exploits, and the high and low points of each of his six wives, heard every tale he thinks Chad’s ever had to tell. But this is something Jensen’s never seen before. 

“He looks… _happy_ ,” Jensen whispers back, trying to wrap his head around it. 

“That’s… weird?” Jared asks, hair falling forward into his eyes as he tilts his face to look at Jensen.

Jensen can’t believe this is a question he’s never considered before. “I’ve known Chad for a long time. I’ve seen him get excited about a lot of things. But I’ve never seen him look… happy.”

“Maybe it’s about time,” Jared says, shrugging.

And Jensen agrees, he agrees so much, especially since he’s riding the same wave. Maybe it is about time. But in 2020, Chad’s been married six times, and not a single one of his wives has ever been named Sandy.

He turns toward Jared, the words on the verge of being spoken—and then he swallows them back, remembering.

“Yeah,” he agrees, nodding. “Maybe.”

*

Alamogordo is the nearest city—an hour’s drive away—situated smack in the middle of nowhere, just outside of White Sands. The city is comprised of wide thoroughfares and tree-lined irrigation canals, the main part of town covered in grass a shade of brilliant emerald, stark contrast against the Pueblo-style official buildings and wide walkways. It’s a city rich with strong historical ties to the air force and space exploration, as evidenced by the memorials and museums. It only has one local television station and two radio stations, but far more importantly, according to Chad, it has movie theaters, restaurants and people who don’t wear lab coats five days out of the week.

Jensen looks up at the huge, open expanse of nearly clear blue sky, clouds scattered in a stipple near the edge, Jared’s fingers laced loosely through his as they walk along. People pass them, dressed in an array of colors, focused on their own tasks, or talking animatedly on their cell phones, or talking to each other, smiling and enjoying the gorgeous day.

Jensen knows that he often forgets to experience things. He’s always been built that way; capable of intense focus to the point of the world becoming so small that he might as well be staring down a microscope. It’s part of what’s made his career such a successful one. Traveling through time hasn’t left him a lot of instances to relax, always trying to head off some kind of crisis or another until he leaps, only to do the same thing all over again. But here, now, the entire time he’s been here, all he can seem to do is experience.

He’s here. He’s alive. Finally living and enjoying. Present in every moment. He feels a little bit like a kid on Christmas morning, surprises and joy spread out all around him, never knowing exactly what’s coming next but certain that whatever it is, it’s going to be amazing.

“What are you smiling about?” Jared asks, almost conspiratorially as he leans in, hair falling forward, tickling against Jensen’s cheek.

His hair is fragrant with the shampoo from Jensen’s shower, skin scented with familiar soap, and the smell conjures up memories so strong that for a moment Jensen can’t see past them. Doubling and re-doubling of the past over the present, and for a moment, he’s thirty all over again, lost in that dazzling grin, the dimples in those cheeks, surrounded by the smell of home.

“Out with it,” Jared urges, teasing, nudging against Jensen’s shoulder.

The movement snaps him back into the moment, though that doesn’t do anything to wipe the smile from his face.

“You,” he shrugs, tips of his fingers squeezing against Jared’s hand.

*

It’s an almost perfect day, from lunch to the movie they see with Chad and Sandy, to the walk through the local park in all its glorious green foliage and wandering paths. 

“Come here.” Jared tugs at him, pulling his feet from pavement to the soft grass, and they lose themselves for a while in the seemingly endless stretch of trees.

“I feel like we’re about to commit a felony,” Jared whispers against his mouth, body pressed tight, caught between tree bark and Jensen’s weight, hands all over each other, learning, relearning, tracing out every plane and curve.

“Misdemeanor,” Jensen corrects, breathily, hips rolling into Jared’s.

“Oh,” Jared sighs, hands stroking through Jensen’s hair, body angling out from the tree to meet Jensen’s slow roll, choked off groan as they grind against each other. “Well in that case…”

He’s straining, sweating, beads gathering on the tanned surface of his skin, slowly spreading into a smooth, glassy sheen as Jensen keeps kissing him, keeps feeling him, rocking into him until they’re both gasping, sliding slick against each other everywhere their skin touches.

Jensen bites down hard on the inside of his jaw, pulling back from the temptation of Jared’s mouth. He wants this. God, he wants it so much that he feels like he’s on fire with it, burning beneath his skin, heat warping his vision. He blinks hard, tries to remember that they have time—plenty of time—even if Jared’s mouth looks bruised, stained deep red with their kisses, lips parted and wanting more.

“Day’s not over yet,” Jensen whispers, voice hoarse.

“Can’t wait that long,” Jared tells him, hands curling, fingertips digging into the muscles of Jensen’s ass, as he pulls Jensen down.

Jensen doesn’t have a single argument against that.

*

They drive back past White Sands and the Starlight Project, up into the winding roads of the mountains. The sun is dipping low in the sky, painting it in thick hues of orange and gold, deepening to a fiery red along the edge of the horizon. Chad and Sandy split away from them as they walk out towards the tree line near the edge of a cliff, and Jared settles on the rocky ground, heels of his tennis shoes pushing against the drop.

“It’s so beautiful.”

“Nothing like a New Mexico sunset,” Jensen agrees, sitting down beside him.

They share Jared’s first New Mexico sunset through a haze of talk and heated kisses, until finally the sun sinks beneath the horizon, red flaring into dark blue, deepening into purple. The stars have begun to show themselves, slowly sharpening into view, and Jensen pulls Jared backward against the ground, one arm circling Jared’s shoulders, the other pointing out the burgeoning constellations as they appear in the night sky.

They fall into silence after a while, Jared turned on his side, curled up against Jensen, Jensen’s fingers stroking over the landscape of muscles in Jared’s back. It’s a comfortable silence, neither of them rushing to fill the void, and Jensen smiles, staring up at the night. Perched here on the edge of the mountain, it feels like they have all the time in the world, world stretching out beneath them, beyond them, the two of them untouched by it.

 _Sometimes_ , Jensen thinks, _the universe decides to reward you_.

*

They go back to Jensen’s room and lie in bed, talking about everything from constellations to time travel theory, lying on their sides, facing each other, each with one hand tucked beneath their head against the pillows, other resting on each other’s hip.

They talk until they’re falling asleep in mid-sentence, and Jensen isn’t sure of the exact moment they go under; doesn’t care, so long as Jared’s right here next to him.

*

Days and days of working together, everything slotting into place like the universe finally clicking. Daytime hours spent working out equations with Chad and Jared, evenings spent at Al’s place, drinking and talking and laughing and dancing, always ending with the two of them back in Jensen’s room, speaking quietly and intensely of their work, the stars, the future. Bodies moving against the bed, skin bared, nothing between them except sweat and skin, touching each other everywhere.

The way Jared listens, so attentive when Jensen speaks, the way Jared’s hands feel against his skin when they’re done talking, the way Jared feels underneath him. The way they curl together when they sleep, arms and legs tangled around each other, both of them holding on to each other, clinging sweetly in the darkness.

It’s perfect. It’s everything Jensen could have wished for.

*

When Jensen wakes on the next Sunday morning, the bed is empty, sheets and comforter turned back and doubled over him. He can hear the sound of streaming water from the bathroom. Jared’s in the shower, and Jensen’s vaguely disappointed to wake up without him, but he’ll survive.

He rolls over on the mattress, pulling a pillow underneath his belly and turning his face to the side of the room where the sun is shining in, slanting in lines through the blinds across the carpet.

“Dude. We need to talk.” Chad’s voice is relatively quiet for a change, but that doesn’t stop Jensen from startling, turning and spinning around on the bed as he sits up, putting his feet on the floor.

He’s standing, then, trying to discern which Chad he’s talking to. The tired lines around Chad’s eyes combined with the hideously magenta suit and purple tie and the lit cigarette between his lips all cinch it.

“All right,” Jensen says slowly, trying to resign himself to whatever is coming.

Chad drags off his cigarette, regarding Jensen seriously. “Misha says your feelings for Jared are screwing up the readings for everything about this leap.”

Of course they are. Of course they would be. Goddammit. “Well it’s not like I can just stop having them,” Jensen shoots back.

Chad makes a motion at the ceiling with one palm as he drags on his cigarette with the other, his whole posture screaming “duh”.

“And seriously—‘everything’?” Jensen asks. “Just a _little_ melodramatic.” 

Chad makes a broad circle through the air with one of his arms as he paces. “I think he’s exaggerating, too. You know how he gets. But...” Chad stops and scratches at his neck, looking at Squishy. “He does have a point. You and Jared are both part of the Starlight project, high up; anything you guys do differently could affect the outcome of the original history of the project, which is pretty important, historically speaking.” 

“I’m pretty sure our relationship isn’t going to endanger the project,” Jensen answers flatly.

Chad looks at him for a moment, expression on his face calculating, mouth pulling to the left, then the right as if he’s debating something. Finally, he just shakes his head and throws his hands up in an expression of supreme exasperation.

“You are completely hopeless, you know that?”

It’s a rebuke born out years of close friendship, built on a foundation that goes back so far that Jensen can barely remember what life was like without Chad around. 

“And yet…” Jensen moves his arms in an expansive gesture. “Here you are.”

“Yeah,” Chad agrees, almost mournful as he sighs ruefully. “I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me.”

“I have a list,” Jensen offers, with a small smile. “How much time do you have?”

Chad narrows his eyes and points a finger at Jensen’s face, shaking his hand a couple times for emphasis, and then he lets it drop to his side. 

“Jensen… You know I don’t make the news, I just deliver it. But this time—and I am having an identity crisis even I say this--” Chad adds, laying a distressed hand alongside his face, “I think Misha has a point.”

“I don’t mean to belittle your blossoming love affair with Misha… but maybe one of you could be a little more _clear_ about what, exactly, we’re discussing here?”

“Okay,” Chad nods, walking across the room, stubbing out his cigarette at waist level into something Jensen can’t see, before he turns, lifting his hands. “Let me spell it out for you then, genius. You’re in your own body, with just enough knowledge of the past to be dangerous, and have no idea what you’re here to change. You need to be careful, or you could screw your own future. Starlight is why you got the go ahead for project Quantum Leap.”

Jensen thinks for a moment, frowning as he bites against the tip of his tongue. Dammit. 

“You fuck this up,” Chad goes on, “and you might never get put in charge of project Quantum Leap, which means--” 

“Which means maybe I’ll never have helped all the people I’ve helped over the last three years… which means maybe I’ll never have ended up here a second time at all,” Jensen finishes, glum.

“Bingo,” Chad says, pressing the tip of his forefinger against the end of his nose.

It’s questionable. The Quantum Leap time travel theory of life as a crumpled string, of every moment of one’s life touching at some point, defies the idea that time is linear. Which means that it’s _possible_ that even if Jensen changes things in a large way here and now—therefore changing the future and making it so the Quantum Leap project never happened--everything he’s already done in the future and past will still have happened. _Possible_. But… it’s too much to hang on a ‘maybe’. It’s everything, balanced precariously on the edge of a cliff.

“Damn you,” he mutters, cursing Chad under his breath as he turns to the side, running a hand through his hair.

Chad shoves his hands into his suit pants pockets and rises up on the balls of his feet before falling back on his heels.

“Okay,” Jensen sighs after a moment. “I see your point.”

“And finally, he catches on,” Chad sighs, rolling his eyes with something like relief. 

“So tell me what’s happening,” Jensen asks, pushing past the reluctant knot in his chest.

“Okay.” Chad says, getting down to business. “Your actions have already changed things, and they’re opening up so many new probabilities that Misha’s getting bogged down trying to run them all to their conclusions.” Chad’s brows rise as he gives Jensen an annoyed glance. “And Jesus Christ, is he fucking _cranky_.”

Jensen’s on the verge of asking Chad what they were arguing about last time Jensen saw Chad, but at the last second, something holds him back, words dying on his tongue.

“We can’t get any solid data on you or Jared; everything is in flux,” Chad continues. “You’re screwing up all the probabilities. We’re at a loss. We’re flying blind.”

“And this is different from any other time… how?” Jensen asks, lifting his hands.

“Sarcasm isn’t going to help,” Chad frowns, reproving as he points at Jensen with the cigarette in his hand.

“Then what is, Chad? Not falling in love with Jared all over again?” Jensen asks, all pretense given up. “It was too late for that the second I showed up here.”

Chad sighs, chin drawn against his chest, fingers still holding the cigarette nestled between his pursed lips, brows drawing together in a frown as he looks up at Jensen.

“I know,” Chad says, as he pulls the cigarette from his mouth. 

“I’m twelve years in the past in my own body. What else am I supposed to do?” Jensen asks, familiar weight settling in across his shoulders. It feels like defeat, head tipping back, bitterness rising in the back of Jensen’s throat.

It isn’t fair. None of this is fair.

_How can you ask this of me?_

“Who are you talking to?” Jared asks from his right.

Jensen turns, every nerve inside him flaring like he’s been struck by lightning, stomach and heart colliding in a sudden explosion. Dammit. He’d been so distracted he hadn’t even heard the shower turn off, or the bathroom door open. How long has Jared been here? How much did he hear?

“I was…” Jensen thinks fast as he turns to face Jared, pulling up the most likely story. “I was practicing a speech for a symposium next week.”

Jared’s hazel eyes narrow on him and Jensen realizes that he’s made a mistake.

It’s too soon. God, it’s way too fucking soon for _this_ , to try and explain…

“You’re lying.” Jared shakes his head, throat working for a moment, and the hurt visible in his eyes pierces Jensen’s heart.

Jensen looks at Jared for a moment, and Jared’s so beautiful that it hurts, golden, morning light radiating softly across his features. Jensen wants more than anything to be able to tell Jared the truth. But he can’t. 

“Jared. I…”

“Why would you _lie_ to me?” Jared asks, incredulous as he takes a step closer to Jensen. He stops then, eyes flickering back and forth uncertainly. “And okay, I’m having a moment where I don’t know how you _can_ be lying to me when there’s no one else here—but you are.” Jared eyes meet Jensen’s, searching. “You were talking to someone. About time travel. Almost like… almost like you…”

Jared hesitates, frowning, everything in him silently asking Jensen to help him, to tell him what’s going on.

“It… sounded like… you were talking like… you’re from the future,” Jared says, slowly. “But that’s… that’s crazy.” Jared hesitates again…face tilting downward, eyes cutting to the floor for a moment before he looks back up at Jensen full on. “Isn’t it?”

It’s all right there on Jared’s face; wonder and disbelief and hope.

“Jensen,” Chad hisses from behind him, “you need to tell him something-- _fast_.”

Jensen’s mind is spinning, brain frantically trying to find a way out of this, but his heart…

His heart is quiet and sure. There’s no history converging here, this is all new, and yet some part of him knows--this moment has been coming since he saw his own face in the bathroom mirror. Twelve years in the making, and it’s always been leading up to this.

“Jensen,” Chad hisses again.

“Shut up, Chad,” Jensen says, watching the expression on Jared’s face shift, growing into confusion.

“Oh, no, no, no,” Chad groans from behind him, and Jensen can almost see the way he’s holding his face in his hands. “Jen. No. You _cannot_ tell him--”

“I don’t understand,” Jared whispers, shaking his head helplessly.

There’s a tiny, tiny part of Jensen that’s whispering he should stop this, that he has no idea what he’s changing right now. One look at Jared’s face, and short of a natural disaster or a national emergency, Jensen’s pretty sure _nothing_ can stop this—and he’s not even sure about the national emergency.

So much history between them, and Jared doesn’t remember any of it except for what’s happened since Jensen arrived this time, doesn’t understand the significance that Jensen’s come here at all. Love leading back through time, touching Jensen’s life at every single point.

Jensen lets the air fill his lungs, caught for a moment between before he steps over the precipice, decision made.

“Eight years from now, the Starlight project is going to be successful,” Jensen tells him, light tremble running through his stomach, excitement and fear. “Nine years from now, I’m going to be directing a time travel project called Quantum Leap. The government will threaten to cut off the project funding three years after it’s begun, and to prove to them that it can work, I’m going to step into the accelerator.”

Jared’s eyes are huge and round, and Jensen feels like he’s falling, light and weightless through the air. 

This isn’t what Jensen wanted, this isn’t how he’d wanted to do it, if he’d let himself think about it at all; but it’s now or never, and Jensen’s damned tired of never. 

“I’ve been traveling through time for three years now, all within the years of my lifetime. I’ve leapt into the place of hundreds of other people in the past. And now I’m here, in my own place, twelve years in the past.”

Jared’s tongue darts out over his lower lip, muscles in his jaw twitching as he stares at Jensen. He opens his mouth, closes it again and swallows, and then he looks away towards the wall. He takes a breath and one of his hands rises from his side, fingers splayed wide for a moment before they curl into a slow fist.

“Wait,” he breathes. “Just, wait.”

“I know it’s a lot to take in,” Jensen says, stepping forward. He closes his hands around Jared’s fist, pulling it close against his chest. He tilts his head, trying to catch Jared’s eye. “But I swear, it’s true.”

_Please, believe me._

“God dammit, Jensen.” Chad delivers the words without heat, without judgment. It’s a simple commentary on the situation. Chad walks around them until Jensen can see him standing next to Jared.

Jared is frozen, motionless.

“The person I was talking to is Chad,” Jensen explains, gently, an entreaty to Jared. “He’s monitoring me from the future. I can see him standing right here in this room.”

Jared’s eyes dart up, flashing back and forth, and then he stops, bitter laughter bubbling up in his chest. “You’re fucking with me.” 

It hurts that Jared would think that—even for a second, even though Jensen understands. 

Jensen knows he should choose his words carefully, but they spill from his heart instead. “Why would I make up something like this?” he asks, plaintive. “When I _know_ you’re probably not going to believe me.”

Jared’s mouth works for a moment, and then he yanks his hand from Jensen’s grasp.

“Jared--”

“No,” Jared says, voice low and shaky. “I can’t do this. I need to…” Jared takes a breath and takes another step backward. “I need to go.”

“Jensen,” Chad admonishes. “You can’t let him walk out that door. You let him walk out now, he’s never coming back.”

“I thought that’s what you wanted,” Jensen says, softly, glancing at Chad.

“At what point, exactly, did you forget that I’m your best friend?” Chad asks, shaking his head.

“It’s not what I wanted,” Jared is vehement.

“I was talking to Chad,” Jensen replies. 

“God,” Jared breathes, choking out a laugh as he rolls his eyes. “This is insane.”

“Is it?” Jensen asks. “We’re working on breaking the speed of light right now. Time travel isn’t far beyond.”

Jared stares at Jensen for a long moment, his eyes indecisive. 

“You’re not crazy.” Jared shakes his head slowly, and Jensen can see him dissecting the facts behind those hooded, hazel eyes. “I know you aren’t, because…” Jared trails off, seeming to stumble. Jensen can almost see him smash into an invisible roadblock, confusion and surprise warring inside him. 

“I _know_ you aren’t,” he repeats, more certain, almost defiant. Something inside Jared seems to crack, then, and the wild edges to his movements dissolve, his body relaxing as he reaches some kind of decision.

“I mean, I know you’re _brilliant_. Brilliant enough to… to…” Jared trails off then, and Jensen watches his eyes flare wide, can see the moment the realization sets in, hitting him finally and completely. Breath and silence hanging between them, and Jensen wants to step forward, wants to fill it.

“Oh my God.” Jared takes a step toward the bed, hand falling against it as he turns, sitting down hard. “Oh my God.”

“He’s gonna pop,” Chad predicts as he lights a cigarette. 

“I don’t need a running commentary,” Jensen mutters with a meaningful look at Chad.

“I knew this was gonna be a clusterfuck the second I saw who was in the waiting room.” Chad shakes his head ruefully, exhaling a cloud of smoke. 

“Or a chaperone,” Jensen adds, more forcefully. Chad gives him a resentful look, punching up the doorway on Squishy.

When they’re alone in the room, Jared is sitting very still on the bed, looking off into the distance with a thousand-yard stare.

“You’re…” Jared struggles for a moment with the words. “You’re talking to Chad right now.”

“I was,” Jensen nods. “He’s gone now.”

Jared makes a perplexed sound in his throat that almost sounds like a high-pitched laugh, and he wonders for a second if maybe Chad was right. But then Jared goes on speaking.

“This is really happening… you’ve…” Jared hesitates, searching for the words. “You’ve been here before. And now… you’re here again?”

“Yes.”

“You…” Jared’s voice is soft with shock, riddled with disbelief, “met me then, too?”

God. Jensen swallows hard against the lump forming in his throat. This could go either way, and it’s too late to turn back now.

“Yes.”

“Is that…” Jared closes his eyes, and when he opens them, his face is tilted towards the ground, eyes following the angle. “Is that why I feel like… I know you?” Jared’s voice has gone almost deathly quiet, words chosen so carefully and slowly. “Is that why I--” Jared cuts off the words, biting down against his lower lip. He takes a deep breath, shuddering, like he’s gathering all of his courage to speak again. 

“Is that why I care about you?” Jared asks softly—so soft—like if he says the words too loudly they might break him. “Is that why I feel like there’s never been anyone else besides you? Because somewhere, some _when_ , this has all already happened?”

Jensen’s chest constricts, throat closing up.

_Please. I can’t lose you. But I can’t lie to you, either._

“I don’t know,” Jensen answers, honest, throat squeezing so tight he can barely get the words out.

“God,” Jared breathes. “Is anything I feel for you real?” he asks, lifting his eyes to Jensen. “Is any of this real? Does it count?”

He looks like a little boy, so innocent, so lost and confused and _afraid_.

“Jared…” Jensen closes the distance between them, falling to his knees, hands closing around Jared’s face, pulling him close. Mouth brushing against Jared’s, eyes half-closed, heart hammering in his chest. “Don’t.”

“Jensen.” Jared’s voice is so quiet Jensen can barely hear it. “I have to.” Jared draws a shaky breath, face shifting between Jensen’s hands. “I have to know… because...” Jared shakes his head, lips grazing Jensen’s. His eyes are wide and honest, open and naked, everything stripped bare for Jensen to see. “Because, I… I love you.”

Jensen feels nothing, brain turning over and over in an endless, empty cycle for seconds suspended in time—and then everything inside him shatters, bursting open, wide and raw as it rushes to fill him.

God. He never had a chance. Not a single choice or chance in any of this. He was destined from the moment he met Jared the first time—maybe from the moment he was born—to be right _here_. So close to Jared he can barely tell where he ends and Jared begins, wrapped up in this aching need, so beyond anything science can quantify, so far beyond anything else he’s ever known.

He kisses Jared’s mouth, fingertips pressing into Jared’s skin. 

“I’ve been in love with you since I met you,” Jensen whispers, voice breaking over the words. Honesty burning through him, scouring him clean. “Like I’ve never loved anyone else.” Thumb brushing the angle of Jared’s cheekbone, caressing and coveting the feel of his skin. “Twelve years... as long as I can remember…” he breathes, “my whole life… it’s always been you.”

Jared is gorgeous, motion and contour frozen like a fly in amber. Jensen can see the whites of Jared’s eyes flare around the iris, pupils infinitely black, devouring Jensen like a pair of black holes. He’s still as death itself, and Jensen can’t even hear him breathe.

_No. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Not this time._

One chance; he only had one chance to do this.

“Please,” Jensen begs, voice breaking across the word. 

“I… need time,” Jared finally whispers, eyes closing as he slowly pulls Jensen’s hands from his face.

Jensen can only watch as Jared gets to his feet. His hands close into fists, fingernails digging half-moons deep into his palms, memory crashing through him.

_\--Their kiss is the heat of mid-July afternoon, a supernova that explodes through Jensen, sizzling in every nerve ending._

_“I,” Jared breathes, mouth still kissing at Jensen’s. “I have to go.”_

_“Don’t,” Jensen whispers back, fingers sliding down the muscles of Jared’s back, fingertips coming to rest at the end of his spine._

_Jared hesitates in his embrace, body frozen for a moment, and Jensen kisses him again._

_“Stay.”_

_“I… could maybe… stay a little longer,” Jared confesses through kissing him back.--_

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

“Jared.” The word is a half-whispered croak against the silence.

Jared hesitates, but he doesn’t turn, and so much hangs right here, in this instant. Jensen feels panic steal through him, heart hammering behind his ribs and he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to say—would know what to say if he just knew what was coming.

“Take as long as you need.” The words feel weak, and Jensen swallows hard against the lump in his throat. “I’ll be here.” 

_Just come back to me_ , he adds silently, everything inside him desperate and pleading. 

The door shuts softly, and Jensen falls against the bed with the sound.

 _Please, come back to me_.

*

 

Chad steps through the doorway some hours later—Jensen’s lost count of how long. Chad squints at him, taking a long look at Jensen’s face.

“You let him leave,” Chad says, sucking on the end of his cigarette. 

“I had to.”

“Jensen…”

“Shut up, Chad. Just… shut up.”

Chad nods, pulling the cigarette from his mouth. He doesn’t move, standing by the bed in his canary yellow suit.

He’ s still there when the day ends, sun sinking beneath the horizon, last splashes of brilliant orange fading from the walls of the room. 

*

 

Jensen wakes in the morning, alone, body curled into a ball against the covers, still clothed in his jeans from the day before. He sits up, rubbing a hand across his heavy eyes, and thinks about what he has to do today.

Jensen has lived hundreds of lives, working incomprehensible jobs and communicating with people he hardly knew the first thing about. Staggering and stumbling, he’s always fixed what went wrong, made his way through to the other side when blue-white light devoured him again.

He knows his job this time. It’s second nature. He can do this.

He knows he has to let Jared go. Let him take his time. But Jensen wouldn’t have imagined that it would feel like this; jagged shards like shark’s teeth grinding together inside him. 

_Come on. Get a grip_ , he thinks, shoving from the bed.

*

Jensen is tired of Chad asking him a million questions by the time they get to the lab. 

“What part of I don’t want to talk about it don’t you understand?”

“The part where you don’t wanna talk about it,” Chad replies in a ‘duh’ tone of voice.

Jensen shakes his head with a rueful, reluctant smile. He realizes then, that he could tell Chad the truth. It’s such a simple, obvious thought that Jensen is stunned he hadn’t realized it before. The idea of telling Chad everything is tempting—so tempting that Jensen finds himself on the brink of spilling everything. Chad would believe him, he knows Chad would—

Jensen’s already told Jared, though, and beyond the damage it’s done between them, who knows how much damage Jensen’s done to the timeline by telling the truth. He can’t risk changing things even more.

He feels the hope inside him deflate like a balloon. He’s never been able to share the burden of traveling through time with anyone he can touch. He isn’t sure why he thought he could start now.

He tries not to notice whether or not Jared’s in the lab, but he can’t help it—especially when Chad informs him that Jared definitely isn’t there.

Jensen spends most of the morning pacing his office, restless. By noon, the anxiety inside him is fighting for dominance against his regret. He’s been cooped up with this feeling for almost twenty-four hours, and he needs…

He grabs his car keys from the desk and leaves for the day, driving to Al’s Place. He hopes like hell Jared isn’t there.

He hopes like hell Jared will be.

*

The bar is incredibly slow this early on a Monday, and Jensen can tell in an instant that Jared isn’t here. He could call Chad, but he’s not sure he could deal with 2008-Chad’s version of cheering Jensen up, which would probably entail filling Jensen up with shots all day long and then trying to get him laid.

Jensen settles onto one of the barstools and orders a draft.

Dark, fathomless eyes narrow on his from behind the bar, thick dark brows wrinkled with age, corners crinkling into patterns worn by years of intense scrutiny.

“Kind of early in the day to start drinking,” the bartender comments, considering Jensen. He takes the beer glass down and fills it though, watching Jensen all the while.

“You okay, kiddo?” he asks, pushing Jensen’s beer across the bar.

“Fine.” The word rises to Jensen’s lips, spoken as neutrally as he’s ever answered a casual inquiry.

The bartender pushes back from the bar, shoulders squaring and then angling to one side as his fingers curl around his cigar, sucking in a lungful of smoke as he squints at Jensen with his full attention. 

“I’ve been around long enough to know bullshit when I hear it,” the bartender remarks, thoughtful. “And I’d say don’t bullshit a bullshitter, if either of us were any good at it.”

Jensen stares at the man over the rim of his beer glass, uncomfortable with the attention.

“I’ve been tending bar here for a long time,” the man says, cracking a slow, almost humorless smile. “I’ve seen it all, kid.”

There’s a quality to the way the guy’s looking at him, sympathy in those calm, knowing eyes, like he’s been in Jensen’s shoes before, or something like them.

Jensen feels all the years well up inside, filling him close to bursting, overwhelmed by the sudden urge to spill his guts completely. To share everything he’s lived through with someone he can touch. He blinks against the emotion, swallowing hard. 

He doesn’t even know this guy’s name.

“Are you Al?” Jensen asks, clearing his throat, fighting for control.

“All my life, so far,” the bartender nods.

Jensen can do this; he’ s been doing this for three years running. This is familiar territory, casual conversation. “So this is your bar?”

Al contemplates the question through the smoke between them. “It’s complicated.”

“It always is,” Jensen agrees, half-muttering. 

“Yep,” Al agrees with a nod. “For instance, not that long ago, you were the happiest guy I’ve seen in here in years, and now you’re…” Al gestures at the air with his cigar, spinning wreathes of smoke around his hand. Al pauses, tilting his head to the side. “Now you’re in here ordering a beer at noon on a Monday.” 

Al waits a moment, taking a rag from beneath the bar, wiping the polished wood, and half leans across his moving arm, like he’s confiding in Jensen. 

“Doesn’t take a genius to see trouble in paradise.”

Jensen regards the older man, taking in the creases worn into his angular face, his unruly, short-cropped, curly dark hair. 

“I’ve been lucky enough to love a couple people in my time, kid,” Al says, one hand smoothing the bar, the other curled around his cigar, dark eyes lost somewhere in the past. “I know how much misery love can bring. But there were good times, happy times, too. The thing you have to ask yourself, at the end of the day, is just this,” he says, meeting Jensen’s eyes. “Is it worth it?”

Reluctant, Jensen sucks in a quick breath. “Was it, for you?”

“I always thought so,” Al nods, corner of his mouth curling in a smile as he snaps the rag out, tossing it under the bar. 

“So, I have to ask,” Al says, sliding a hand across the clean wood, taking a drag from his cigar, eyes narrowing intently on Jensen again. “Is it worth it for you?”

“It’s worth everything,” Jensen whispers, fingers toying at his beer glass, lopsided smile curving bitterly into his features.

Al sets his elbow across the bar and leans over it. “I gotta tell ya, kid,” he says, almost conspiratorially, “‘everything’ sounds just a little bit dramatic. ‘Everything’ is one of those words that people use when they really mean it’s what they want right now. ‘Everything’ is a word people should mean.”

In the background, he can hear a female voice singing softly from the jukebox, rising on the still, smoke-stale air.

_” My heart is drenched in wine  
But you'll be on my mind   
forever...”_

Memory of Jared pressed against him, skin bathed in blue light, those hazel eyes staring into Jensen’s with so much want, leaving him breathless.

“I’ve wanted this, more than anything, forever.”

“There’s nothing you want more?” Al asks, head canting to one side, intently curious. “No _one_ you want more?”

Jensen thinks of his dad, the emptiness that’s lived in his chest through the last two decades. There have been times he would have given anything to have his dad back again. His father will always be alive in his heart, preserved as the man he was, and Jensen wishes—God, he _wishes_ \--that his dad was still here for him. Wishes he could call him up right now and ask him what to do about Jared.

“Not more,” Jensen whispers. “But I wish my dad was still alive, almost just as much.”

“That’s a rough gig, kid.” Al reaches out, fingers closing on Jensen’s shoulder, curling with sympathy.

“My dad’s dead,” Jensen says, grating out the words. “This person isn’t.”

Al shakes his head slowly, drawing back from Jensen as he straightens, taking a drag off his cigar.

“Tell you what, kid. Think about what you really want while you finish that beer. If all you want is the bottom of the glass again when you’re done, good enough; I’ll fill it all day long and you can drown yourself. But if not, you get your ass back to wherever you belong and do something about it.”

“It’s not up to me,” Jensen tells him. “I did something to upset him, and…” he trails off shaking his head. “It’s not up to me.”

“So you screwed up… and now you’re saying the ball is in his court?” Al shakes his head slowly, exhaling a cloud of smoke. “Come on, kid. I know you know better than that. In my experience, the one who makes the mistake is the one who’s supposed to try to make things better.”

“He needs time to think.”

“You can never know exactly what to do. Some people want time with no contact. Other people need to know that you care and want them, that you’re being patient, but that you’re still there. If this guy means as much as you say he does… then you owe it to him to at least let him know you’re still here.”

Jensen looks down at his beer, closing his eyes for a moment before he speaks. “But what if I do that… and I screw it up? What if I send him running away _again_? What if I make it worse?”

What if he’s just destined to lose Jared every time, no matter what?

“Then… he’s not the person you thought he was. He’s not ‘everything’,” Al says with soft finality. “No matter how much you want him to be.”

Jensen shakes his head slowly as he looks up, opening his eyes. “That’s not even a possibility.”

“Then what are you worried about? If you’re that sure, you’ve got nothing to lose.”

_But I’m not sure. God, I’m not. I lost him before._

But he can’t tell Al any of that, can’t tell the truth.

And if he isn’t sure… then _is_ Jared the right person?

Jensen knows the answer; it’s never even been a real question. Everything in his heart says yes. Not a single doubt in his mind can make a dent in that certainty.

“I never should have said anything to him,” Jensen confesses, breath aching in his chest, fingers flexing around his beer glass. “I wanted to tell him the truth, but I should’ve just let it go.”

“Maybe. Maybe not,” Al shrugs, words gentle. 

“Drink your beer, kiddo. And then go find out,” Al says, kindly, holding Jensen’s gaze for a moment before he turns away, tending to the matters of running a bar.

Jensen swallows hard, trying to cling to the hope in Al’s words. But he knows… he already knows he lost Jared before.

_Maybe I’m destined to lose him, no matter what._

Jensen bites down on the inside of his jaw, willing back the pain the thought brings, and hoping vainly it will vanish at the sight of the bottom of his beer glass.


	5. Chapter 5

Jensen leans his forehead against Jared’s door, metal cool against the heat of his skin. He lifts one palm, pressing it alongside his face, fingertips flexing as he closes his eyes.

Everything he’s ever wanted on the other side of reinforced aluminum, a heartbeat and a knock away.

He wants to knock more than he’s wanted anything besides Jared in a long time. He wants to watch the door open, see it part and reveal that face—

_\--“Hey.” Jared’s smile is welcoming and wide as he stands in the doorway, hand rising to brush his hair back from his face, his skin the color of honey against a sky-blue t-shirt. His hair is wet from the shower, his skin still damp, t-shirt clinging to the musculature of his chest, jeans pulled on hastily, zipper hanging open in an inviting vee._

_“You look…” Jensen starts to say._

_A moment, hanging in still silence, eyes meeting, and there’s no more need for words between them, Jared tugging him inside the room, Jensen kicking it shut behind.--_

Warm strong arms and a broad smile, and he’d been welcomed inside. He won’t be welcomed now, he’s sure of it. Jensen can barely stand to remember the mistrust in Jared’s eyes, the way he’d closed up. Doesn’t know if he can stand to see that beautiful face shuttered and distant.

He didn’t travel this many years through time and then come here to give up. He takes a deep breath, letting his lungs fill, and pushes off the door, stepping back. Hand raised into a fist and he lets it fall against the door, once, twice, three times.

There’s no answer, and Jensen doesn’t know if it’s because Jared isn’t there or if it’s because Jared doesn’t want to talk to him.

He walks back to his room with a fragile aching in his chest.

*

He stares at the phone in his hand, blank screen waiting for him to type a text message, cursor blinking impatiently.

What the hell can he compact into a text message that’s going to make a difference?

The phone rings, startling him so badly that he almost drops it, and he grabs it with both hands, wrestling it into position as he hits the button.

“Hello?” he asks, swallowing against the dryness of his throat.

“Jensen, hi.” She sounds younger, but he recognizes her voice instantly, sound settling into his bones with blessed familiarity. 

He squeezes his eyes shut and smiles, exhaling into the phone. “Hi, mom.”

“How’re things on project top secret?” she asks, voice rich and filled with the same playful tone he remembers from the earliest years of his life.

“You know,” he says, unable to hold back a grin as he shrugs. “Secretive.”

“Uh huh,” she says, and he can hear her grin back. “One day you’re gonna crack, sonny-boy, and tell me everything.”

Jensen feels his eyes prickle with tears as he smiles, and this is exactly what he needs right now. “How are you, mom?”

She tells him about the farm, about the hands and the cows and the horses and the calves and the foals, and how his father would be spinning in his grave if he could see the way business is done these days.

His father. His father would hate the way the world is now, so little truth left in anything at all.

“Jensen? You there?”

So little truth.

“I’m here,” he says. “Mom…” and God, if he can tell anyone, he can tell her, can’t he?

“What’s wrong?” she asks, voice cutting quick and concerned across the connection.

“This top secret project… it’s about time travel.”

There’s a long pause, sounds of shifting on the other end of the line. “What do you want me to say? That I’m surprised? I’m not. Any project that’s got you on board… it would have to be something fantastic. I’m more worried about what’s wrong with you.”

She would be. And fine, he’ll skip the full story.

“I met someone,” he says with difficulty. “And I… I’m in love with him.”

“You can’t be in love with him, Jensen,” she says with all practicality. “Because if you were, I’d have heard about him before you lost him.”

Jensen bites down hard against his lower lip. God, she always knows.

“It happened fast. Just the last couple of weeks.”

“And you’re sure you’re in love with him?”

“Yes. More than anything, I’m sure.”

“Then what happened?”

“I… I told him the truth. About why I was here, that I…” he sighs in frustration. “It’s complicated, mom.”

“And he left you?”

“He said he needed time to think.”

“Jensen,” she says and sighs. “I’m your mother; I think anyone who doesn’t love every single thing about you is an idiot, so I’m probably not the best person to ask for advice. But…if you’re _asking_ for advice… in all my time, I’ve never heard you like this about someone. If you love him this much, you can’t just let him go.”

“I don’t want to let him go. But I don’t know how to make it right.”

“Yes you do, honey. You’ve never been dumb about anything in your entire life—you always know the right thing to do. You know it here, too.”

“I want to text him, but I don’t know what I can say.”

“Say the truth,” she tells him.

“’I’m sorry for fucking things up?’”

“Jensen Ross Ackles, such language,” she tsks. “You tell him whatever it takes, but you tell him the truth.”

It’s so simple, and exactly what he needed to hear.

“Thanks, mom.”

“And after you get him back, you bring him down here to visit, you hear?”

There’s no sense arguing with her about whether he will get Jared back or not. She’s his mother, and she’s convinced.

“Of course,” he says and smiles.

“Be good, honey. Love you.”

“I love you, too, mom.”

He hangs up the phone and rests his elbows across his knees, looking down at it. 

He pulls up the blank text screen, and begins to type.

_\--That guy I told you about before? I’m in love with him. But I fucked things up._

Jensen hesitates, thumbs hovering over the screen.

_He probably thinks I’m crazy now, and I don’t know what to do about it. I miss him._

Jensen chews on his lower lip.

_Tell me what to do.--_

He closes his eyes, thumb hitting “send”.

Hours pass without reply, and finally Jensen throws the phone on the nightstand, running his fingers through his hair.

 _Where are you?_ he wonders.

*

Day has passed into night, and Jensen is curled, sleeping soundly in his bed when a knock comes at his door. His eyes flutter open, and he reaches for his phone reflexively, checking it to see if there’s a message.

The only message he has is from Chad who was clearly worried about him not being at work and not showing up at the bar… Jensen glances at the clock… two hours ago. 

Nothing from Jared. 

The knock on his door sounds again, louder and more impatient this time, and he can imagine Chad outside the door, texting “open the door u fucker” while he waits impatiently.

Chad’s never been any good at leaving him alone when it’s all he wants more than anything else in the world. It’s part of why he loves Chad, though he’d never admit it on pain of death.

“I’m coming,” he calls, rolling off the bed. Feet to the carpet and he rubs his eyes, walking to the door.

The banging starts again just before he puts his hand on the handle.

“Jesus Christ, Chad,” he snaps, yanking the door open.

It isn’t Chad.

“I don’t think you’re crazy.” Jared’s voice is a quiet rumble, hazel eyes dead-set and serious. “I know you aren’t.”

Jared. God, it’s Jared.

“I kept thinking,” he says, hands resting on the outside frame of the doorway. “I must have gotten it wrong somehow. That you were trying to get rid of me. And it didn’t make any sense. I kept thinking… if you really wanted to get rid of me, why time travel? If you wanted to opt out nicely, why not go for abandonment issues? They’re like the Beatles of our generation.”

He’s beautiful as he stands beneath the overhead lights of the hallway, hot, bright thing like anger in his eyes, twin mirrors poised on the edge of belief. 

_I’ve never wanted to get rid of you_. The words are on the tip of Jensen’s tongue, but he swallows them back hard, waits for Jared to finish.

“And if you wanted to get rid of me, then why would you say what you did about…” Jared falters for a moment, fumbling with words before discarding them, finally ending with, “me. And I thought you could just be letting me down easy…” Jared shakes his head fractionally, hair swaying in a curve against his cheek. “But it didn’t _feel_ like that. There’s something in me that doesn’t believe that. Something here.” Jared’s hand leaves the frame, fingers coming to rest against his chest.

“And then I realized… you had to be telling the truth, and I couldn’t… I can’t…”

Jared trails off, shaking his head, and Jensen feels his heart ache, swelling inside his chest.

“Jared.” _Come inside_ , he starts to say.

“And I thought about what it meant, if I believed you were telling the truth. I thought… maybe I only feel this way because this all happened before—but that’s crazy, because as far as I remember, this _never_ happened until right now. Except I feel like it did. I _know_ it did. The way I feel you… like you’re the only thing that’s ever really mattered.”

His hands drop to his sides, fingers curling at the end of his long, tanned arms.

“Fuck, Jensen. I’m in love with you,” Jared says, like it’s all he’s got left, helpless and resigned all at once.

“I love you,” Jared whispers, more certain, a boy standing in a doorway, confessing his heart, scared of the truth. 

Jensen’s hands close around Jared’s jaw, mouth surging into a kiss that leaves Jensen breathless and weak, hands sliding through Jared’s hair and tugging him closer. Jared feels so right, so perfect, familiar and rediscovered all at once. Spinning through the doorway into the room, door kicked shut behind them, and Jensen falls back against it, pulling Jared with him.

“And it doesn’t even matter,” Jared breathes, biting at Jensen’s lower lip, “if you’re telling the truth,” rearranging Jensen’s jaw, angling him, kissing down into him. “Because I _trust_ you,” words whispered into Jensen’s mouth. “And if it happened before, it’s because it’s happening now,” truth spilling into Jensen at breakneck speed, kissing out slow, biting, licking, “and the other way around.”

“But it scares me,” hands clasping Jensen’s face, and he can’t look away. “It scares me to death.”

“Jared…” Jensen breathes, fingers flexing slow against the curve of Jared’s waist. “Don’t be scared.” Hands climbing up the ridges of Jared’s ribcage, sliding around, up his chest, sharp line of his jaw in the palms of Jensen’s hands. “I love you.” 

He’s been a stranger in a hundred people’s bodies, professing love for even more people, and he meant every single word. But it never meant what it means now. It never went this deep.

Somewhere, in the past, he knows he knew this before, realization setting in for the first time all over again.

_\--The room is quiet, silence between them lying thick as thieves, secrets held apart by their skin._

_In the background, Velvet Underground plays, and Jared shifts against him, sheets rippling. Hands on Jensen’s face, turning him slowly until he’s staring into those hazel eyes, at a loss for words for what he sees in them._

_“Jensen… I love you.” Raw words, carried over the distance between them on warm chords, and Jensen feels them all the way to his core, treasures them as shock washes over him. Shamed and wishing he’d been brave enough to say them first._

_“I’ve been in love with you since the first time I saw you,” Jensen confesses, catching Jared’s face between his hands, kissing him.--_

“Did… this… happen before?” Jared breathes the words out in staggered bursts. “Did I… did we love each other then, too?” 

Jensen nods, wordless, not trusting himself to speak against the constriction in his chest. 

“I believe you,” Jared whispers, pad of his thumb tracing a line over Jensen’s lower lip as he stares at Jensen, the wonder never leaving his expression. “I don’t know why. I know I shouldn’t… but I do. I feel you, all the way to my bones.” 

Jared’s hands grip Jensen’s face, holding him tight, kissing him so hard that he feels like he’s going to lose his mind. Jared’s here, Jared believes him. Those sensitive, rough hands grabbing at Jensen, leading him backwards. Jared pulls Jensen up with the strength of his arms, falling back onto the bed. 

“I feel like I’ve been waiting all my life for you,” Jared exhales. Jensen’s lying on top of Jared’s long, lean body, staring down into those wide, hazel eyes. 

“I trust you,” Jared tells him, and the pure, raw honesty in the words threatens to crush Jensen’s heart. Bedrock in the words, certainty that makes Jensen’s hands shake. 

“So…” Jared’s voice is jagged, catching in his throat. “You’d better not be fucking around with me, because…” 

“I promise,” Jensen breathes out, kissing him, sucking on Jared’s lower lip, rocking his hips slowly into Jared’s, “that tomorrow, every muscle in your body will attest to exactly how much I am _not_ fucking around.” Lips trailing down the exquisite length of Jared’s neck, hot skin bared, throb of his heartbeat strong against Jensen’s tongue. Jared’s here, in his arms, and he’s never going to let him go. Can’t let him get away again, because…

“I’ve lived hundreds of lives…” Jensen whispers, words uttered against the curve of Jared’s throat, kissing the point of his chin. “And every single time…” teeth nipping, mouth sliding higher, brushing against the swell of Jared’s, “I loved _you_ ,” lips sealing the words like a brand. “Just you,” Jensen breathes into the sweetness of Jared’s mouth. 

“God, Jensen.” Jared’s breath stutters in his chest, skin dancing with the motion. 

“I almost lost you.” Jensen can hear the plaintive note in his voice, but he can’t bring himself to care. It’s truth. “I can’t lose you, Jared.” 

Jared’s hands are soft against his face, fingers flexing lightly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Words held breathlessly between them, eyes locked in promise, and Jensen doesn’t know how he can be here for anything other than _this_. 

He’s so aware of every inch of Jared pressed against him, molded to his body, how precious this moment is. Jared knows, Jared loves him, and he doesn’t have to hold back anymore.

“I love you,” he breathes, freedom rushing through his veins like adrenaline. Kisses pressed down the line of Jared’s pulse, sliding slippery against the skin. There are too many clothes in the way, and Jensen removes them one at a time, mouth outlining the curves of Jared’s muscles as they’re revealed. So beautiful, carved as if from marble, and it isn’t even this he loves most. 

“Your mind,” Jensen murmurs against Jared’s skin, cheek turning, riding down the line of his cock. “Your wit.” Licking at his inner thigh, cheek rubbing against him. “Your body. I love it all. Every single thing about you.”

“Jensen.” The word is a gasp, an invitation, fingers grasping against his head. 

Point of his tongue pressed into the tip of Jared’s dick, he’s so hard, texture velvety and soft as Jensen licks away the salty taste of pre-come, trailing out, around and down Jared’s inner thigh.

Here, the center of him, so hot it’s scorching against Jensen’s tongue, searing as he pushes inside. Jared wrapped all around him, thighs closing around Jensen’s neck, his hands gripping Jared, tugging him in, closer, deeper. Slow swirl, unfurling of his tongue, touching places inside Jared that he’s never felt before, and he wants to know them all. 

The slow intimacy of it, the dance between them as Jensen curls his tongue and thrusts, Jared pushing against his chin, fingers mapping out his skin, playing in the dips between his muscles, the hollows of his hips. Fingertips teasing against the full, hot skin of Jared’s cock, body arching and undulating against him. It’s all here, in the feel of Jared’s muscles rippling against him, all around him, in the way Jared squeezes his shoulders, gasping out his name.

It was never like this; not even before. Jensen doesn’t know how he knows, but he does. It’s right this time, even more right than it was the first time, as impossible as that seems. Jared bathed in blue light on a dance floor in a bar twelve years ago, where it all began, and it’s never ended, isn’t ending even now, feeling growing inside him until he feels like he’s going to burst. 

It’s never going to end. He could live a thousand lifetimes, and it would all come back to this.

“Please, Jensen, God,” Jared gasps, muscles flexing around his tongue. Jared feels exquisite, silk and velvet squeezing tight, and Jensen could stay here all day, but he feels the urgency too, muscles thrumming under his skin.

Condom and lube pulled from the night table drawer, fumbling blindly as he licks a slow path up Jared’s body. His cock is rock hard, familiar curve against his hand as he rolls the condom on, gripping tight as he slicks it, mouth sealed to Jared’s. Pushing up between Jared’s spread legs, hips wriggling as he thrusts inside, both of them gasping into each other, Jared’s teeth scissoring his lower lip.

It feels like coming home.

Hands tracing out patterns over Jared’s stomach, muscles shivering under his touch, tongue pushed deep, tip curving, and he wants to stay here forever, just like this, the two of them joined together so perfectly, so completely. 

“I missed you. God, I missed you so much,” Jensen breathes the words into Jared’s mouth, hips thrusting jaggedly.

“I missed you, too,” Jared groans, whispering back, rising to meet him.

He doesn’t know, can’t know what Jensen means—how many years Jensen spent without him. How he’s spent the rest of his life since meeting Jared waiting to do this, to be with him all over again.

“I’ve loved you… all along.”

Jared moans, thrusting against him, sweet friction of him sliding down Jensen’s dick. God, he’s so beautiful, twisting, writhing, face shiny with sweat. Tanned skin flushed pink, eyes staring up into Jensen, completely unapologetic, unabashed as they move together, wide, hazel eyes radiating warmth, loving every moment of this, loving _Jensen_.

Jensen doesn’t have words for this, can barely contain the way it makes him feel, hips shoving, hands grabbing, mouth kissing Jared with emotion so strong that it _hurts_. Hips rocking, and he’s losing himself in it all, doesn’t care—doesn’t even want to care. Tattooing a slow rhythm against the bed, bodies rippling as one, slide of skin and sweat, taste of him salty against Jensen’s tongue. Hands touching Jared everywhere, fitting to his shoulders, his waist, his hips, the firm, round curve of his ass as he fucks into him, giving and taking until Jensen’s on fire with it, blood burning, racing through his veins, cheek gliding against Jared’s, mouth finding his, hot and wet.

Fingers smudging sweat down the muscle and sinew of Jared’s thighs, arms and legs wrapped around him, and Jensen turns them both on the bed until Jared’s on top of him, Jared’s hips picking up the rhythm, pushing up and away from Jensen as he sits up, and for a moment Jensen can’t stand having him so far away. 

The muscles in Jared’s stomach flex, hips grinding down in a dirty circle on Jensen’s dick, and Jensen gasps, his fingers tightening on Jared’s rippling thighs. He’s amazing, so insanely gorgeous, miles of tanned skin, so impossibly, perfectly built, riding Jensen at a slow gallop until Jensen feels crazy with it. Hands splayed against Jensen’s stomach, hips twisting, grinding, muscles coiling and flowing beneath the skin, head tilted back, staring down at Jensen through his lashes, musculature of him sheathed in a shimmering layer of sweat, light catching the chiseled design of him. His cock is hard, rising up at an angle between them, flushed red and lightly veined, tip glistening with pearls of milky white.

He’s the most perfect thing Jensen’s ever seen.

“Come here,” Jensen whispers, reaching for him, dragging him down into a long, slow kiss. Light scrape of stubble, sweetness of Jared’s mouth, tongues and fingers twining, palms pushing together. Jensen pushes up from the bed, rolling them over slowly until Jared’s lying spread beneath him, breathing out hard, and Jensen pushes Jared’s right leg down, bending his own and hooking it around Jared’s, heel just touching the back of Jared’s thigh. Jared’s other leg caught beneath the back of the knee, crook of Jensen’s elbow pushing it up until it touches Jared’s chest, and he _twists_ , shuddering as he drives deep, angling against the sudden tightness the position puts on Jared’s inner muscles.

“Oh my God,” Jared gasps, tremors spreading through him. “Jensen,” he breathes out, desperate, fingers grabbing at Jensen, mouth meeting his in a searing kiss. Jensen knows how good it feels, rocks his hips, keeping the angle as he thrusts deep and slow. He’s close now, watching the ecstasy on Jared’s face, the way he shivers, hips trying to jerk against Jensen, held in place by Jensen’s leg wrapped around him. 

“I want to give you this…” Jensen whispers, cheek grazing Jared’s chin as he thrusts, “always.” Hips dragging backward, Jared’s body clenching against him. “I want to make you feel like this for the rest of your life,” he confesses, hips double shuddering, shoving in. “Keep you… just…” quivering, thrusting, “like... this.”

“God… Jensen.” Jared breathes his name out like a stuttered prayer, head tipped back and eyes glazed, looking at Jensen through the fringe of his lashes, hand squeezing Jensen’s tight. Face flushed pink, suffused with pleasure, wet strands of hair clinging to his cheeks, so beautiful, caught in the moment.

“Please,” Jared pleads, needing, shaking.

“I could never deny you anything,” Jensen whispers.

Jensen untwines his fingers from Jared’s, resting one palm on Jared’s cheek, fingers of the other closing around Jared’s cock, sliding up the curve, tugging as he thrusts with his hips. Jared’s eyes fly wide, locked on Jensen’s, and then his body seizes with a gasp, clamping down on Jensen like a vise as he comes, spilling through Jensen’s fist, slickness sleeking the friction of his palm. Muscles contracting around Jensen, pulling tight, head tilted back, mouth open, lips streaming nonsensical words. Jared’s body hitching, hands scrabbling against Jensen’s skin as he cries out, and Jensen watches him intently, wanting to burn the image into memory. He’s so gorgeous, so exactly the way Jensen wants him to stay.

He angles his hips, thrusts harder, feels the sensation shoot all through him, edge like flame singing up his spine, and then he’s gone too, mouth smearing hot against Jared’s as his hips shudder, twisting, surging deep, moving of their own accord as he comes. It surges through him, searing and shattering, taking him apart with the feel of Jared in his arms, underneath him, all around him. Hips jittering, jerking on instinct until the end, Jared flexing around him as they draw out each other’s pleasure, connected at every point.

“I love you.” Jared’s lips touch his, grazing his chin, skimming the skin along his cheek, fingers closing around the back of Jensen’s skull, tipping his forehead closer to Jared’s. Press of a kiss like butterfly wings against each of Jensen’s eyelids, hands shaking as he pulls away. “So much.”

“I love you,” Jensen breathes back, opening his eyes.

Jared’s expression is soft, eyes so intent on Jensen’s, mouth curving in a slow, beautiful smile. “You might have said that once or twice.”

“It’s worth repeating,” Jensen tells him, tongue slipping inside his mouth, kissing him slow and thoroughly.

The two of them, pressed shivering and sweating against the sheets, hearts beating a crazy rhythm in their chests, breathing out hard, arms encircling each other like a completed circuit.

Every single thing I’ve done… I’ve done for you, Jensen thinks. The thought doesn’t make any sense, there and gone in a flash, and then it’s just the two of them again, nothing that matters more than the way they’re holding on to each other.

Slow, lazy kissing down into sleep, and they don’t pull from each other at all before it claims them, lying on their sides, arms wrapped around each other, Jensen still inside Jared.

* 

 

When Jensen wakes, Jared is a warm presence curled against his side, half wrapped around him, pushed up on his elbow so that Jared’s face is the first thing Jensen sees, those hazel eyes watching him with a contentedness that makes Jensen’s heart smile.

“Were you watching me sleep?” Jensen asks, fingers dancing down the line of Jared’s spine. “Because there are less creepy ways you could express your affection.” 

“I was just thinking…” Jared says, tongue flashing out over his lower lip before his mouth curls into a smile, eyes lighting up with a playful glint of amusement. “I mean… if it’s been fifteen years since now for you… that makes you forty-five, right?” 

The thought strikes Jensen with surprise. He hasn’t quite thought about it in those terms—in his head, he stopped aging when he stepped into the accelerator at forty-two. But, technically… he's been leaping for three years beyond that, now, so... 

“Yes.” 

“I’m twenty-six,” Jared says, fingers tracing faint lines against the soft skin of Jensen’s side. “Which makes you... practically a cradle robber,” he says, expression dissolving into a grin. 

Jensen laughs, rolling Jared over on the bed. 

“I’ll show you a cradle-robber,” he purrs, kissing Jared. His dick is half-hard, pressed against Jared’s thigh as he rocks his hips. The condom from last night is still taut around his cock, and he’ll have to deal with that soon enough.

“Mmm,” Jared hums, arching into the hard line of Jensen’s cock. “You are so hot.” 

“Yeah?” Jensen asks, voice gritty with want. 

“Yeah. Even if you are old,” Jared adds, kissing the end of Jensen’s nose like a consolation prize. 

“I _look_ ,” Jensen growls, “like I’m thirty.” 

“But you’re not,” Jared teases, breathlessly, rising to meet Jensen’s hips. 

“God. You are just begging for it, aren’t you?” Jensen asks, teeth nipping Jared’s throat. 

Jared shudders, twisting underneath him. “Am I that transparent?” 

“Crystalline,” Jensen smiles, diving to claim Jared’s mouth. 

* 

Work isn’t even a question, today, and Jensen feels no urgency except to relish every single movement of Jared, every single sound.

After, they lie side by side, half-tangled together, still sweating. 

Jensen can hear the moment the doorway to the future opens.

“Don’t you take time out to rest?” Chad asks, puffing on a cigarette as he appears and stares down at the two of them. “I checked in on you last night, much to my chagrin. But, damn Jensen. That’s some stamina.” 

Jensen lifts a hand from the mattress and waves Chad off. 

“This is one time when you _should_ be impressed with yourself,” Chad says, misunderstanding. 

“I wasn’t talking about the compliment,” Jensen says aloud. “I meant ‘go away’ for now.” 

Jared glances at Jensen sharply, rolling on his side and half-sitting up. He turns his head, looking around. “Is Chad here?” 

Jensen nods, and points to where Chad’s leaning over the bed. 

Jared stares at the spot where Chad’s standing, eyes squinting and straining to see him.

Chad wiggles his fingers at Jared, and then, just for fun, pushes his fingertips through Jared’s face. 

“I can’t see him…” Jared says in a guarded tone, “but I _know_ he’s messing with me.” 

Jensen smirks proudly, nodding. 

“Dammit,” Chad hisses, pulling his hand back. “How the hell could he know that?” 

“Because he knows _you_. He knows you, _now_ ,” Jensen corrects. 

“Is he… more like that in the future?” Jared asks, as if the idea has just occurred to him. 

“More like what?” Chad demands, sounding vaguely offended. 

Jensen nods again, briefly. “Definitely.” 

Jared’s face works for a moment, like he’s trying to absorb it all. “So he can show up any time? Even while we’re…?” 

“Oh, please,” Chad snorts, making a face. “Don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart. Like I’d stick around to watch _that_.” 

“He wouldn’t stick around for that,” Jensen says, finishing the words almost in unison with Chad. 

Jared’s expression goes thoughtful for a long few seconds, and then turns sly. “So maybe we should?” 

“Again?” Jensen pretends to be scandalized. 

Chad rolls his eyes, punching Squishy’s screen, cigarette caught between the second and third fingers of the same hand. “I know when I’m not wanted.” He looks pointedly at Jensen as the doorway opens behind him. “I’ll be back later.” 

Jensen salutes Chad with two fingers before Chad vanishes through the doorway. 

Jared’s not quite as cavalier, despite his baiting of Chad to leave, and Jensen can see the questions crowding behind his eyes. 

“Tell me,” Jensen encourages, brushing his lips against Jared’s. Better for him to ask, better for them to get it all out now. 

_And what if he asks you about the future, Jensen? About whether or not you’re together in the future? What are you going to tell him then?_

He shoves the thought to the back of his mind; he can deal with that later. If he has to, he’ll tell Jared the truth, no matter what the consequences bring. The thought of lying to Jared now, after all this… he’d rather die.

God, he is so ridiculously, stupidly, _gooey_ in love.

He doesn’t care.

“What are you thinking?” Jensen asks, rolling onto his side.

“I don’t know if I’m ever going to get used to this,” Jared confesses, chewing at his lower lip. “How can you even see him? How does this whole thing work?” 

Jensen takes a deep breath and prepares to explain the last three or so years of his life to Jared in detail. 

* 

“So Chad’s standing in a room in the future that renders a hologram image of him that’s sent directly to your brain so you can see him?” 

“And he can see me,” Jensen nods, agreeing. He hesitates, rolling his tongue between his teeth. “I know how it sounds--” 

“No,” Jared answers immediately, voice firm. “I believe you. It’s just…” Jared’s shaking his head, searching for the words. “It sounds…” 

“Crazy?” Jensen supplies. 

“Yeah,” Jared says, nodding as he breathes out slow. 

They settle against the bed on their backs, arms linked around each other’s shoulders. Silence stretches out between them for a few long minutes, and it doesn’t make Jensen even a fraction less aware of Jared lying here next to him; the feel of his bare skin, the warmth and curve of him. 

“It’s so weird…” Jared whispers after a moment, “thinking about you traveling through time, looking like other people. Thinking that I could have met you before… and I wouldn’t have known it was you. You could have looked like anyone.” 

The words sink in, and Jensen digests them. 

“I have to tell you something,” Jensen says, slowly. “I don’t always remember everything, each time I leap, and I didn’t remember this until that night at the bar when we danced… but.” Jensen licks his lips, taking a deep breath, and he has no idea how this is going to go over. 

“This is going to sound really strange… but… I was there, in 1982, when you were born.” 

Jared blinks rapidly, just staring at him, his voice a quiet, shocked whisper. “What?” 

“I was there. I know how insane it sounds, but… I leaped into your father. Those few days that your mother jokes about him being replaced by an alien? It’s because he was, in a way. I was him.”

Jared’s stopped blinking, stopped breathing, his hands still against Jensen skin.

“It was my first leap… and I didn’t remember _anything_ about my past, didn’t even know why I was there. Your mother was a pregnant woman I woke up with that I didn’t remember going to sleep with, and I was… freaked out. And then Chad showed up, and I was even more concerned… but he eventually explained everything. Misha figured out the reason I was there.” Jensen stops swallowing hard, and God, he doesn’t want to tell this much of the truth.

“Jensen. Please tell me.”

“Your mother… when she went into labor… your dad tried going out to get help. He got… he got caught into the tornado. While I was there, I changed that. I made it so he didn’t leave. So that you…” Jensen closes his eyes for a moment, wrestling with the emotion in his chest, and then lets them flutter open. “So you wouldn’t lose him.”

Jared’s eyes are wide as saucers, gorgeous hazel a thin circle around pure black as he hangs on every word. “You’re saying…” Jensen can feel Jared’s hands shaking, “my dad _died_?”

“In the original timeline, yes,” Jensen nods, pressing his lips together, eyes searching Jared’s face for his reaction. “But I changed it, I fixed it. You never had to go through that,” Jensen says, trying to cushion the revelation.

“I can’t… Jared’s staring off across the room, eyes dizzy, lost as he shakes his head. “I can’t even imagine my life, without my dad.”

“The first time I met you…” Jensen explains, hesitating over the words. “You missed knowing your father so much. It shaped so much of who you were. When I met you this time, when we talked and I realized your father was still alive because of what I’d done… I was so happy for you. You’re so much happier, Jared.” Jensen can’t even explain how much it means to him, heart tying up in knots in his throat.

“Jesus,” Jared whispers. Turning, hands slipping around Jensen’s cheeks, cupping his face. “Jensen…you did that for me?” Liquid shimmering at the edges of Jared’s lower lashes.

“I’d do anything for you,” Jensen confesses, transfixed by Jared’s gaze.

“But… _your_ dad,” Jared whispers.

Jensen’s heart feels like it’s going to burst inside his chest. Jared. Thinking only of him—even confronted with all of this knowledge. If he didn’t understand before why he loves Jared, he’d understand now.

“I got to see him again,” Jensen whispers, voice wavering, catching over the words. 

“But you didn’t save him.” It isn’t a question, and the sadness in Jared’s expression threatens to send Jensen’s own spilling over the edge.

“No,” he manages, word mangled with emotion. “But I wouldn’t trade what I did for you. Not even… not even for that.” The words burn, pushed out through his throat, and they feel like the worst kind of betrayal, like ripping his own heart out of his chest through his throat. But they’re true, God help him. All true. “It’s… you’re the only thing I wouldn’t trade for that.”

“Jensen…” Jared shakes his head, seemingly wordless for a moment beyond the sound of his name. “If I… if I could tell you what that means to me… I don’t even have _words_.” Tears brimming in Jared’s eyes, almost spilling over, and Jensen can’t stand this, the way it makes him feel, the way it fills him until he feels almost sick with it.

“Don’t,” Jensen pleads, closing his eyes and leaning to kiss Jared. “Please don’t, because if you do, you’re going to break me, and I can’t take that. I can’t.”

Jared’s hands flexing against him, and then he can _feel_ Jared come to a decision, body shifting, holding Jensen with resolution, forehead moving against Jensen’s as he nods. 

“You are…” Jared breathes, mouth shaping the words against Jensen’s, “the most amazing person…” hands closing tight, pulling him closer, “I’ve ever known.”

And somehow, Jensen understands in that moment that Jared is never going to leave him again. That if he came here to fix things between them, it’s beyond done. They are bound to one another, inexorably through time and back again, and nothing will ever separate them.

His breath hitches in his chest, and he braces for the feeling of his atoms dissolving, for blue-white light to claim him and take him to the next place in time. He waits, eyes screwed shut, clenching Jared tight, trying to take the feel of Jared with him.

He waits.

And waits.

And nothing happens; just the slow breathing in and out between them, mouths touching, pulling the breath from each other’s lungs.

That isn’t why he’s here.

 _Fuck._ That isn’t why he’s here.

It doesn’t matter, he decides a moment later, because this has been changed; truth as irrevocable as everything that’s gone before between them. Whatever he’s here to do, he’ll do it, but he has _this_. He’ll always have this, waiting for him in the future.

It hits him, then, full force between the eyes; the thought of Jared waiting for him in the future, him being lost in time for three years, Jared trying desperately to bring him back. He’s on the verge of apologizing now, insisting that he’ll return. God, how could he _not_? When he has this to go home to?

“Jared,” he grates, voice thick. “In the future… you… I--”

“No.” Jared cuts him off immediately. “Don’t tell me, Jensen. I want to know everything… but I want to find it out for myself, along the way.”

“But--”

“No,” Jared says, shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter. Whatever happens.”

He could apologize to Jared, try to make up for the pain. But if he does, he’s only going to make Jared have to live the next twelve years knowing he’s going to lose Jensen. On some level, Jared already knows it, even if he hasn't actualized it yet, and Jensen wants to keep him from realizing it as long as he can.

Would it have even happened like this, if he’d been with Jared? Would he have stepped into the time stream? Would he have risked it all when he already had everything? And if he doesn’t make that decision in the future… how can he be here now?

He doesn’t know. He finds, as he lets Jared turn him against the mattress, hands running down the length of his body, that he doesn’t care. He _is_ here, and that’s all that matters.

And as Jared opens him, pushing inside him for the first time, he’s more grateful than he can comprehend to have this moment—to have each and every one that follows.

*

They’ve spent most of the day in bed, and by the time they’re tired, fucked out and spent, Jensen can’t imagine a better way to have spent it. They’re lying side by side, staring up at the constellations above Jensen’s bed, Jensen’s hands tucked behind his head, shoulders, hip and thigh pressed against Jared’s.

He’s going to take this as it comes. One day at a time; enjoying every instant of everything he’s being allowed to have. 

“Wait,” Jared says suddenly, breaking the silence, and Jensen can feel a sudden realization run through him. “You were _my dad_ \--” Jared _stops_. And then he turns his head wordlessly, meeting Jensen’s eyes. “Dude. You _didn’t_?” 

Jensen understands immediately, tongue tucking between his teeth before he answers. “I didn’t… _know_ she was your mother at the time.” 

“Oh my _God_ ,” Jared gasps, hands shoving at Jensen to push him away. 

Jensen moves across the bed, rolls over and tackles Jared, falling against him, hand sliding into his hair and tugging his face to the side, breathing in deep. “Luke… I am your father,” he exhales heavily into Jared’s ear. 

“You are never getting laid _ever again_ ,” Jared promises, squirming underneath him. 

Jensen laughs, sound reverberating deep inside his chest, and he lifts his chin, lips brushing against Jared’s cheek. “I was only there for a couple of days. And she was very pregnant. I never touched her.” 

“Promise?” 

“Promise.” 

Jared turns his face toward Jensen’s, light grain of stubble scraping along Jensen’s jaw line. 

“But you were really there? When I was born?” Jared’s voice is hushed, almost breathless. 

“Yes.” Jensen’s voice hitches in his throat. “And… God… I was so happy to see you.” 

_I missed you._

Jared’s eyes are wide, so incredibly deep and gorgeous, and Jensen leans to kiss him. 

“I feel like that should be bizarre,” Jared whispers, kissing him back lightly. “But somehow… it’s comforting, knowing you were there, at the very beginning.” His fingers twine through Jensen’s, locking their palms together. “Like… somehow, you’ve always been with me.” 

“I feel like I’ve never been anywhere else.” The words reverberate roughly in Jensen’s chest. He pulls their intertwined hands to his mouth, lips grazing Jared’s knuckles as he meets Jared’s eyes across the uneven ridge. 

_And I’m always going to be here_ Jensen vows, silently. _I’m never going to stop, Jared. I’m never going to give up._

 _I promise._

* 

They shower together, Jared pushing Jensen against the tile as he falls to his knees. Steam rises around them, hot water spilling over Jensen in rivulets that tantalize his skin as he tugs at Jared’s hair, ass working against the cool, wet wall, hips pushing into Jared’s mouth until he comes, orgasm shuddering through him, sweet and volcanic, pulsing out the last, weak spurts left inside him.

They go out to _Al’s Place_ that evening, Jensen, Jared, Chad and Sandy, and they sit on one of the booths near the bar, nursing beer and talking, laughing. They split into couples on the dance floor near the end of the night, Jared pressed up against Jensen, legs and hips and shoulders moving in perfect time with Jensen as Jensen leads, and the night ends with Jared dipping himself in Jensen’s arms, Jensen following the movement with all his strength, holding Jared in place before he pulls Jared up, their mouths meeting midway, still kissing as they straighten the rest of the way. 

The music has long died away and changed, and Jensen’s content to stand right here, arms hooked around Jared’s waist, thumbs slung through Jared’s belt loops, exploring Jared’s mouth as he kisses him, long, deep and slow. 

He doesn’t need anything else. Just this, forever. 

That would be enough. 

* 

Jensen’s in the shower the next morning, humming _Sweet Emotion_ for no other reason than it had been playing at the bar last night, fingers massaging shampoo through the short, thick strands of his hair when he opens his eyes and sees someone standing right in front of him. 

His heart hammering, veins rushing with adrenaline, Jensen’s fist lashes out, passing right through Chad’s unimpressed cheek in the second before Jensen realizes who he’s attacking. 

“You could warn me, you know,” Jensen hisses, nails biting into his palm as he pulls his hand back to his side. 

“You looked like you were enjoying yourself,” Chad returns. “I didn’t wanna interrupt,” he adds, pulling the cigarette from between his lips with an almost delicate flow of his hand before he turns his palm upward in an expansive gesture. 

“My morning wouldn’t be complete without your sarcasm,” Jensen grates. He tips his head back into the stream of the shower, fingers and water flowing through his hair as the shampoo washes away. It foams in frothy bubbles that stream over his chest, trickling down his stomach as Chad’s expression turns impatient. 

“Whenever you’re ready, sweetheart.” Chad’s entire posture reflects a dramatic air of being put out. 

“What? You actually have something to tell me?” Jensen asks, fingertips rubbing at the crown of his head. “And here I thought you just showed up to check out the scenery.” 

Chad rolls his eyes to the side and back again, gaze focusing on Jensen intently at the end of the orbit. “Look, dude. I know you’re annoyed at me for interrupting your time-crossed-lovers thing the other night, but this is important.” 

Jensen rinses the last of the shampoo from his hair and stands at his full height, lips parting, tip of his tongue touching one corner. “Okay. What?” 

Chad shifts his weight back and forth between his feet, hesitating a moment. “First off, you’ve fucked things up so badly by telling Jared the truth that Misha may _never_ recover.”

“I know.” Jensen nods. “And I’m heartbroken,” he adds with mock solemnity. He takes a moment then, gathering the words to make him understand. “But Chad… I had to tell him the truth.”

“I know you did.” The set of Chad’s expression tells Jensen that he really _does_ , and for a moment, Jensen’s surprised, words still poised on the tip of his tongue, ready to defend his choice.

“Don’t look at me like that, Jenny. You know goddamned well I’d have done the same thing.” Chad lifts his arms, spreading them wide for a moment. 

Jensen believes that, and he knows it shouldn’t be a surprise, but it still is. Of course Chad would have told Jared the truth—if he loved him.

But Jensen isn’t sure Chad’s ever really loved anyone in his entire life except maybe for…

Sandy. Sandy; whom Chad never married.

“That’s why I’m here,” Chad goes on, rubbing at one of his ears. “Today you’re going to ask Dr. Hewlett to bring Jared onto the senior team. You’re going to tell me—younger me, I mean—before you do it, and I’m going to…” Chad trails off, rubbing at his chin. “I’m going to ask you to recommend Sandy to the senior team as well.” 

“And?” Jensen frowns, not following. 

“And…” Chad’s face softens for a moment, eyes glancing to the side as he presses his lips together. His expression hardens, settling in the next second as he looks at Jensen directly again. “Don’t.” 

“You… don’t think she deserves it?” Jensen guesses, confused. 

“Oh, she’s smart enough to deserve the promotion all right.” Chad voice is rough, his tone dry. “But it’s…” Chad hesitates again, shaking his head back and forth. “It’s too soon.” He pauses again, lips parting like he’s about to say something else, and then he closes his mouth tightly, edges pulling downward.

Jensen considers all of that for a moment, reducing everything down to its most basic form. “So this somehow caused a relationship disaster for you two in the past?” 

The tip of Chad’s tongue runs out between the flat line of his lips before he nods. “Yeah.” 

Only a 12% chance of him being here to save things between him and Jared, and he refuses to let it go. He understands.

“What does Misha say?” 

“Like I said, Misha’s too bogged down running scenarios to be useful,” Chad says shaking his head. 

“But,” Jensen asks, considering. “If Misha’s still running scenarios, how do you know whatever happened in the past will happen again?” It’s best not to change anything else, anything more, if they don’t have to.

“I don’t. But if there’s even the slightest chance of it happening again…” 

Seventeen years, and Jensen can’t ever remember Chad asking him for _anything_. But he needs to know.

“Chad… what happened?” 

“She…” Chad’s voice hesitates, and the vulnerability that Jensen sees in his face hurts Jensen’s heart. “She dies.” There’s so much tied up in those words beyond the simple delivery of them, and Jensen reels, letting them sink in.

“A few days after she joins the senior team… Hewlett sends her to town for something, and she…” Chad struggles for a moment before he continues, his expression set like stone. “And someone skids through an intersection and t-bones her car.”

“Fuck, Chad. I'm so sorry.” Jensen breathes out the words, and they’re not adequate, not enough.

“Sophia… I was young,” Chad shrugs. “We were in college and everything was… stupid romantic… and we got married. Before either of us really knew. You know?” Chad bites down on the end of the cigarette filter, blowing out smoke through his teeth. “It wasn’t until I met Sandy that I figured out I'd never known what love was. She was…” Chad rolls the filter back and forth between his teeth, finally pulling it free as he shakes his head, meeting Jensen’s eyes with an expression Jensen’s never seen before. 

“There was never anyone else like her,” Chad says, gravely. “My whole life, Jensen… I never loved anyone else.” 

Jensen can’t quite imagine Chad—carefree, skirt-chasing, bathroom pounding _Chad_ \--caring about someone that much, but the story is right there in front of him, written into every sad, drawn line of Chad’s face. 

There could be consequences—major consequences. Saving Sandy could throw so many things out of balance, and Jensen knows the risks. He stares at Chad for a long moment, water stinging his back, and knows there’s no way he could ever say no.

“Okay.” 

Chad just looks at him, nodding before clears his throat and glances down at Squishy. 

“Thanks, pal.” 

Jensen nods back. 

“Jensen…” Chad goes on slowly, smoke curling against the air with word. “Don’t you… I mean, aren’t you even curious about what happened before?” Chad’s eyes skitter across Jensen’s and land somewhere outside, almost like he can’t help himself, and there’s something sad in the set of his face. “Why you and Jared don’t end up together in the future?” 

“We’re… not together?” Jensen asks. The words catch him off guard, startling him, and dammit, he’d really thought… he’d believed. He feels tricked, bruised as if he tripped over something in the dark, falling to the floor, hands not quick enough to catch him. He takes a deep breath against the pressure in his chest, feeling suddenly naked beyond the bareness of his skin.

Chad shakes his head slowly, somber and sorry. All Jensen has to do is ask, and Chad will tell him why not.

Something rises up inside Jensen, dark and vehement. 

“No,” he says, dead certain. “No I don’t.” 

“Jensen…” Chad’s voice is everything that’s reasonable, tinged with sympathy and something deeper that Jensen can’t begin to process. 

“No,” he reiterates. “I do _not_ want to know.” 

“Okay. Okay,” Chad relents, holding up a hand between them. “I just thought,” Chad chews at his lower lip thoughtfully, eyes fixed somewhere to the side of Jensen, “I should offer,” he hesitates, fingers flexing around the cigarette in his hand, and Jensen can almost hear the rest of what Chad means to say. 

“Thanks,” Jensen tells him, meaning it. “But no thanks.” 

In the ensuing silence, Chad meets Jensen's gaze again, considering him. 

“How can you not be the slightest bit curious?” Chad asks, and there’s something in his eyes that makes Jensen have to turn away. 

It takes him a moment to find the words. 

“Because I don’t want to “fix” what happened before,” Jensen breathes, hands settling against the cool tile of the shower, water streaming hot down his body, streaking and splashing off his chest. He closes his eyes against the spray. “I want it to be right this time. The way it always should have been. Any knowledge of what happened… and I’m rigging the game in my own favor.” 

“Jensen. Rigging the game is what you do. It’s _all_ you’ve done for the last three years.” 

Jensen shakes his head, opening his eyes, fingers tracing out a pattern against the beads of condensation gathered on one of the tiles. “It wouldn’t be fair.” 

Jensen smiles bitterly, finger crossing through the shape he’s made, watching water drip and run away. 

“I can’t rig this, Chad. Not this. It’s too important.” 

Chad’s silent for so long that Jensen thinks maybe Chad’s gone. 

“You’re a better man than me, Jen,” Chad says, voice guttering low. 

Before Jensen can find it in himself to turn and speak, he can hear Chad’s doorway to the future open, and then close. 

 

*

Dr. Hewlett’s office is calming, walls painted a faded aqua blue, trim a red so deep it’s almost the color of rust, smooth, strange angles to everything, rounded metal triangles covering the wall lights. Everything, even the artwork, is oblong or trapezoidal, including the desk and the chairs on either side.

Jensen sits in one of them as Hewlett motions him to do so, back of his head just touching the dramatic diagonal angle of the chair-back. Hewlett is distracted, typing something into his laptop, mouth working in a discontented motion as he hesitates, fingers tapping keys, and then he finishes typing decisively. He nods once at the screen before one hand moves to the mouse and slides, forefinger clicking.

“I hope you’ve got something good for me,” he says with a tight smile at Jensen as he lets go of the mouse, hands folding together. “Because keeping the hope alive for our funding next year is _not_ going well.”

Jensen remembers Hewlett verging on the edge of dramatic even in the best of times, much less the worst, but he can’t help feeling like opportunity has just fallen into his lap.

“I might have just the thing,” Jensen says with a smile.

He shows Hewlett Jared’s equations, explaining, the older man nodding thoughtfully.

“If we could make some more progress on this…” Hewlett trails off. “Yes,” he nods. “Yes. This is good. We need him on the team.”

“But if we’re bringing up junior members,” Hewlett adds, tilting his head to one side as he thinks. “I’m bringing up Sandra McCoy, too.”

Jensen opens his mouth, about to protest, and Dr. Hewlett cuts him off smoothly.

“She’s a genius, Jensen,” Hewlett says with congenial charm so filled with seemingly-irrefutable logic that Jensen suddenly remembers why the man is in charge. “She’s a shoo-in, and I’d have brought her up already if it didn’t seem like favoritism. Bringing them both up, it’ll make things smoother.” Hewlett pauses for a moment, staring off into space thoughtfully. “And Masi Oka, too,” he adds, scribbling a note on the pad next to him. “Have you met him yet? He’s impressive.”

“Three of them,” Hewlett adds with finality, nodding. “For luck.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Jensen begins, and then interrupts himself with an entirely different thought. “Wait. Don’t bad things happen in threes?”

“That’s never been scientifically proven.”

“Neither has good luck,” Jensen offers, skeptical.

“Right. That luck thing was a joke,” Hewlett says, quickly moving on, sentences seeming to run together, “are you all right Jensen? You seem a little off.”

“No. I’m fine.” Jensen takes a quick second to find his place and pushes on before Hewlett starts looking at him too hard. “I just think that three of them at once… it might draw too much attention.”

Hewlett frowns, thoughtful over the end of his pen, and then he shakes his head. “No. It’s a done deal. They all deserve it. Unless you can tell me a definitive reason that they don’t?”

Jensen sighs, shaking his head. “No.”

It would have been easier if he could have prevented it this way. He’ll have to find another, more direct way to stop this, now. 

He will. It’s what he does.

*

Past-Chad catches him almost as soon as he leaves Hewlett’s office.

“So how’d it go?”

“She’s in,” Jensen tells him, trying to keep the disappointment from his voice.

“Awesome. I knew you’d come through,” Chad says, clapping Jensen on the back. He’s so happy that Jensen can hardly stand to look at him, guilt rising up, bitter in the back of his throat.

“I have to get back to my office,” he says.

“Hang on.” Chad’s fingers close around Jensen’s shoulder, steering him as they walk together. “Jared said something this morning that got me thinking about the propulsion machine.”

“Propulsion machine?” Jensen repeats, frowning.

“I know it’s been a few weeks since we worked on it, but what Jared said… well, it’ll be easier if I show you while I explain.”

Chad leads Jensen through the halls, past the entrance to the main lab to another door on the opposite side. 

In this room, beneath the plastic sheeting used to shield it from dust, there stands machinery constructed by a dozen engineers that is the foundation of the accelerator chamber. It’s primitive compared to the one Jensen will construct and step into years from now, and it’s incomplete, but Jensen marvels at it anyway.

“We were so much closer than we knew,” he murmurs, running his hand along the cool edge of metal.

“You gloating over your own work again?” Chad asks from behind one of the control panels. He flips a switch and the machinery hums to life, tiny LED lights firing to life on sensors and panels everywhere, bathing Jensen’s skin in a green glow.

“So bear with me while I explain,” Chad says as walks up alongside Jensen, hands beginning to move as he describes his theory, shaping the piece that he’s describing.

That’s it. It’s the last piece the accelerator needs to make it whole. But they still haven’t figured out the proper energy source to make it work, and they won’t for another—

The memory seizes him with violent force, blotting out everything else.

_\--Machinery hums in the background, the drowsy buzzing all around Jensen. He hums under his breath along with it, hands moving over a control panel, skin tinted green by the tiny lights all around him._

_Jared is standing by the propulsion machine, clad in his white-lab coat, expression intent as he adjusts a dial. Jensen feels a smile crease his face, pride warming him as he looks back down at the panel._

_“Now,” he says to Dr. Hewlett, glancing at the small crowd of people gathered in the room. “The way it will work, is when the betatron is engaged…” His finger flicks against the switch that will bring it life, “the subject will--”_

_He breaks off at the sound of a high pitched whirring, brow furrowing. He hits the switch again to turn it off, but it’s not responding, noise intensifying._

_“Chad,” he starts to say—_

_The room explodes in pale blue light, energy expressing itself on light waves, so bright that Jensen throws an arm across his eyes._

_This is wrong, this shouldn’t be happening. All around them, the high pitched whine rises, screaming as if in fury. He blinks and steps forward to pull the power on the whole project. Everything happening in milliseconds and Jensen can’t move quickly enough._

_In front of him, Jared is beautiful, suspended and still for a moment that feels like forever, skin drenched in pale blue light, and Jensen thinks of the night Jared had asked him to dance._

_It’s then that he understands what’s happening._

_He runs, feeling every moment as if in slow motion, hands outstretched, reaching for Jared._

_Briefest brush of fingertips against his, and then Jared begins to dissolve before his eyes, light sweeping over him, devouring him before he can finish speaking Jensen’s name._

_Less than the span of a heartbeat, and Jared vanishes before his eyes, taking the light with him._

_Disbelief and horror mingle inside Jensen, realization only beginning to set in. Around him, the machinery dies, winding down with a warbling drone. The silence in the room is thick, almost crushing, and Jensen feels the weight hit him, force sending him to his knees._

_Jared is gone, swept into the time stream, and Jensen has no idea how to find him._

_Jared is **gone** , as irrevocably as if Jensen had killed him.--_

“No,” Jensen whispers, pen falling from between his numb fingers. It spins end over end as it falls, striking the tiled floor with a clink that rings like finality, and Jensen can’t breathe, reeling from the raw wound of memory, stunned and horrified, mind pinging out a single word over and over over again.

_nononononononononononono_

The world collapses, and he falls to his knees with it.


	6. Chapter 6

Everything he’s ever loved, crumbling before his eyes, and he sees it, fully knows it for the first time in three years.

Jared, every beautiful, perfect line and curve of him gone, and Jensen can’t reconcile this. Doesn’t understand how he’ll never talk to him, ever again.

_\--“You’d love this,” Jensen says, words echoing off the emptiness of the straight, white walls. It’s well past four AM, and Jensen’s still here, delirious on coffee and lack of sleep, more focused than he should be. Fingers flying over the keyboard, smile sunk deep._

_“You’d love the idea of Misha so much,” Jensen goes on, one fingertip striking enter, the rest strumming out more letters. “He’s the perfect medium. You’d get such a kick over how bitchy I’m going to make him.” Jensen’s fingertips hesitate over the keyboard. He thinks of the humor and dissonance he’s adding to the whole project, how much Jared would approve. How much Jared **will** approve._

_“You’re going love it when you meet him,” Jensen promises.--_

Twelve years, and he’d never stopped talking to Jared. His life lived as if Jared would be just around the next bend, the next corner, the next equation.

He’d never given up. Never. 

“Jensen!” Chad’s hands are fisted in his shirt, shaking him.

Chad, touching him, and he understands that he’s in the past, that this is all just memory.

Memory. God, it’s just a memory. Remembered and so real… but it isn’t. Not yet.

The feeling of losing Jared is intense, overwhelming. It clings to him the way the worst nightmares do, humid and damp, sticky and terrifying, sensation lingering long after the images have gone. He rubs his palms against his thighs, fingers twitching. Just a memory, he tells himself, covering his face with hands and breathing out hard, trying slow the frantic pace of his heart. 

It hasn’t happened yet. It’s just a memory. He can still stop it.

God. How could he have forgotten?

“Jensen,” Chad yells, shaking him again. “What the hell, dude? Are you okay?”

He’s in the past, he can still change this. He needs to focus on the now, keep moving forward. Lungs flexing as he breathes, tries to believe.

“I’m okay,” he answers, voice shuddering. “Just… give me a second. And stop shaking me.”

Chad lets go of him slowly, regarding Jensen with mistrust. “Jesus, you scared the shit out of me, Jensen.”

Fear limning the lines of Chad’s expression, and Jensen suddenly sees him so much more clearly than he can recall. So easy to dismiss Chad when he needs to, but Chad’s here—Chad’s _always_ been here, in every single way Jensen’s ever needed him. Even now, standing, waiting for Jensen to recover from whatever Chad thinks just happened. And no matter what ever happens, no matter how much Jensen wants to strangle him sometimes, Chad feels broken in like the jeans he’d worn his first night here; smooth, rounded like the edges of a stone rolled in water fit into the curve of Jensen’s palm. 

But right now Chad is staring at him vaguely concerned, questioning eyes, wanting an explanation.

He doesn’t want to lie. He feels ripped open and shaky at the edges, too much emotion coursing through him. He doesn’t want to lie to Chad. He’s used to having to cover for his “off” behavior during his leaps, but this is _Chad_. 

He can’t. He can’t explain all of this right now. It would take hours, and he doesn’t know what he might be screwing up by doing it, and…

Dammit. 

“I just…” Jensen says, grasping for words, stalling for time, mind fumbling for something that could possibly explain why he collapsed to his knees in the propulsion machine room. “Your idea.” God, it’s so thin, and Jensen flinches as he forces himself to continue the thought. “I think you’re right.”

Chad blinks at him and then stands up straight, folding his arms across his chest. “You’re saying that my idea is so fucking awesome that it brought Dr. Jensen Ackles to his knees in awe?”

“I… also skipped lunch,” Jensen adds weakly, trying to spin out a smile. He feels like the worst kind of asshole right now.

“Uh huh,” Chad replies, unimpressed, his expression not changing. “And had sex for like twenty-four hours straight, yesterday. Not that I’m not proud of you, dude, but you’re gonna kill yourself, you keep that up.”

Jensen looks up at him, more grateful than he knows how to express, guilt clouding his heart like a thunderstorm.

Chad shakes his head and reaches out, offering a hand to help Jensen up. Jensen releases a breath and feels the tension in his stomach ease slightly, his fingers closing around Chad’s. 

Chad, who’s always been here for him. Jensen wants to tell him everything, but there’s only one thing he can tell him right here, right now.

“You’re the only reason I’m still sane,” Jensen tells him as he pulls to his feet, face inches from Chad’s.

“How many drugs have you been doing without me?” Chad asks, eyes squinting at Jensen.

It’s so perfect, it’s so _Chad_ that Jensen has to laugh. He’s dizzy with memory, dizzy with realization, and he feels raw, ragged around the edges, all the barriers he’s put up over the years reduced to nothing.

“I love you,” Jensen tells him, fingertips rolling into the curve of Chad’s shoulders.

And Chad… Chad just stares at him, disbelieving. “Dude. Of course you do. Like that was ever in doubt?”

“I never said it before,” Jensen confesses, skirting the edges of that intense, deep-blue gaze.

“You never had to, asshat.”

Chad claps him on the shoulder, folding Jensen into his embrace as he moves them forward.

*

Chad walks him to his room, which is where he wants to be; too much to carry right now to bear anywhere else.

“You’re sure you’re okay?” Those slanted, raised brows thrown against him, and he can’t do anything except smile.

“No,” Jensen breathes, shaking his head. “But I will be.”

“Gooey bitch,” Chad mutters, snorting. “Like I don’t know what’s going to make you feel better. He’s going to be falling all over himself wondering where you went.”

“I’ll text him,” Jensen nods.

“I never had any doubt.”

There’s a long pause between them before Chad speaks again. “I’m in love with Sandy.” He says it so casually, so offhand and out of context.

“I know.” 

“So,” Chad finishes, pushing his hand against Jensen’s cheek. “Go forth and make that shit happen.”

“I will,” Jensen promises, meaning more than Chad might ever know.

_You’re a better man than me._

It isn’t true. Three years he’s been lost in time, and Chad’s the one who’s been there for Jensen, the one who’s helped him save everyone over the years, unquestioningly. Even at his most skeptical, Chad has stood beside Jensen, doing whatever Jensen needed him to do, even if it was just to go be with someone in danger until Jensen could get there. They couldn’t see him, and Chad couldn’t do anything, but he always went, even if it was just to make Jensen feel better. Jensen knows that, deep down, Chad believes no one is beyond saving, despite all his posturing to the contrary.

Chad’s always been there for him; is there for him even now.

There’s no way Jensen’s going to let him down.

*

It’s when he’s finally alone that it all sinks in.

He stands beneath the end of the star chart tacked to the ceiling of his room, head tilting to one side.

He doesn’t need to see it to understand, constellations woven into his brain, scattering like diamonds across his mind. Stars bright, coalescing into shape behind the limitation of his eyes.

He turns away from it, walking to the wall, fingertips tracing out a pattern that he suddenly understands he’s traced so many times before. Star to star, dot to dot, forming a primitive image. 

Wings and grace, gilded with want and love beyond all understanding.

Cygnus the swan, diving again and again to find Phaeton, long after everyone else had given Phaeton up for lost. Searching endlessly, eternally. Hope, faith, and love in its purest expression.

Cygnus, who never ceased. Cygnus, who loved Phaeton beyond all reason.

He _is_ Cygnus, searching endlessly for Jared.

Diving into the chaotic river of time, caught in the eddies and whirls of its flow, again and again.

He traces the shape without sight, nails scraping against flakes of paint, catching beneath the edge. He remembers loving Jared this time; he remembers loving Jared the last time. How many times before that? How many times, through how many lifetimes, has he done this? How long has he searched?

How long since his every breath, his every thought, his every effort has been devoted to finding Jared and bringing him home? 

_Every single thing I’ve done… I’ve done for you._

It’s more than he can hold, more than any man was meant to hold. Jensen closes his eyes against the sudden sting of tears.

Jared. God, _Jared_ , after all this time. 

Full understanding of the last fifteen years unlocks inside him, everything forgotten falling free. It comes with a surge of so many emotions that he’s spun by them, overwhelmed, tipping over. Fifteen years, a hundred or a thousand years without Jared. It’s always going to be the same. It’s always just going to be this:

Jensen clinging to the wall, paint lodged beneath his clenching fingernails, begging with every last nerve, every last drop of blood in his body, soul singing out a single word. 

All this time, and it’s only ever been this.

Desperate hope laced with joy that he’s here. He’s finally _here_.

He sinks to the floor, knees thudding to the raspy carpet. He barely notices that he’s sobbing with relief, age-old grief pouring out in a rush that feels like finally coming clean. 

He’s here; this is his chance to set it all right. 

“Thank you,” he whispers out loud, voice thick and choked. He wraps his arms around himself and leans until his forehead rests against the wall, eyes fluttering shut.

“Thank you.”

*

When he can, he calls Jared to tell him he’s not feeling well. He hates himself even more for lying to Jared, but it’s necessary. He doesn’t think he could look Jared in the face right now without crumbling into a million grateful pieces. He needs some time to deal with this, to sort through all the memories, work through the backlog of fifteen years worth of emotion. He sets the phone against the bedspread and wipes the sticky feel of dried tears from his face.

There’s a quiet hum that breaks the complete silence, and Jensen understands that he’s not alone.

He’s not sure he can face future-Chad right now, either, but it’s looking like he doesn’t have a whole lot of choice.

He looks up as the doorway closes, white light falling in a straight line parallel to the floor behind electric blue pants and shoes. The shirt he’s wearing is canary yellow, with a red tie topping it all off. There’d been a time when Jensen had just accepted maybe people in the future all dressed the same way Chad does. Since meeting Chad again in the past, he’s sure that’s not the case. But he doesn’t feel motivated to comment on it. Not today. In fact, today, he’s not sure how to greet Chad at all.

Chad stares at him for a long moment, silence stretching between them, and Jensen can see the recognition in his eyes.

“You remembered, didn’t you?” Chad’s voice is quiet, roughed with smoke. 

Jensen exhales with a rough sound like a laugh, shaking his head as he tries to find a place to start. "I always thought I lost him because of a disagreement... I didn't remember…" God, he should have remembered.

"You probably didn't _want_ to remember, Jen."

“No,” Jensen says, and the feeling that works through him isn’t surprise so much as realization lighting up inside him, settling in. 

“I didn’t.” Of course he didn’t want to remember; he didn’t want to know that he lost Jared like _this_. So seemingly irrevocably and permanently.

"But I’m going to change it," Jensen says firmly, bringing up his chin.

“Jen...” There’s sadness sunk into every line of Chad’s face, blue eyes catching the light filtering in through the window as he swallows hard. “I’m sorry as hell to have to have to say this.” Chad hands flex against Squishy, against his side. “Jared getting stuck in time is when we knew the Starlight project worked, even if it didn't work the way we expected.” His palms turn outward, as if in supplication. “That’s why I tried to stop you from going down this road.” 

He knows the rest of what Chad’s going to say before he says it.

Chad’s lips fold into a thin, pale line. “It took six more years of research and development before they found the energy source, refined the technique and developed the project you demanded. What happened to Jared is the reason Quantum Leap came to be."

Jensen knows that. He _knows_. And yet. 

“I lost him, Chad.” The gravity, the intensity of that will never escape Jensen. “I _lost_ him. Not just in the figurative sense, but in the truly _literal_ sense. My project as good as _killed him_."

“He didn’t die, Jensen,” Chad starts to say.

Jensen cuts him off, roughly. “No. He just got scattered into the time stream and could never get back to where he belonged. He’s been _lost_ , Chad. All this time.”

“So have you,” Chad tells him, words succinct and precise, hitting Jensen like bullets.

“This isn’t about me,” Jensen grates, pushing off the bed to his feet. He stalks past Chad, pacing. “Don’t even try to make this about me. It’s not even close to the same,” Jensen spits, turning on his heel to face Chad. “Because I’ve always had _you_.”

“Jen…”

“You’ve always been there for me, Chad. I was on my own, sometimes, sure, but I always knew you and Misha and everyone back at ground control were looking out for me. Jared never fucking had that. Jared never had _anything_.” Jensen steps up to Chad, meeting his eyes in challenge. “So you tell me. You fucking stand here and look me in the eye and tell me how it’s the same.”

Chad doesn’t flinch, doesn’t look away, staring right back at Jensen. “You’re right. It’s not.”

Jensen lifts his hands to the air, never looking away. “Then we need to fix this, need to change it.”

Chad licks his lips, eyes pulling from Jensen’s for the first time. “Pal, if this was any other event, I’d say yes with all my heart.”

No. That isn’t what Chad’s supposed to say.

Chad is staring hard at the floor beyond the device in his hand. Chad delivers the words like an apology. Eyes rising to meet Jensen’s again, filled with sadness and understanding. "I know this is hard for you, Jen. But if you stop what happens to Jared... Misha says there's 99% chance that Quantum Leap never happens."

Jared, the key to everything, sucked into the time stream, the first proof that the experiment worked, even if they didn’t know how, yet. It was because of Jared’s disappearance and Jensen’s determination that they’d found their way to time travel as soon as they had. Without that… God, without that…

All the people he's helped, everything he's done, erased. All of it gone. 

What is that worth, laid against a single life?

What is it worth?

No. He isn’t going there. This _has_ to be why he’s here. God, what else could he be here for?

"If I'm not here to save Jared... then why _am_ I here, Chad?" The words are snapped out, demanding and caustic, and he doesn’t expect an answer. Misha has been clueless since this whole thing started, and the answer has to be _this_. It has to be.

Chad takes a deep breath and exhales a cloud of smoke as he looks away from Jensen again. He takes another breath, reluctant, and then murmurs, "Misha says 98% chance that you're here to save Sandy." Chad’s voice is steeped in regret, sadness and guilt. 

No. No that can’t be true. It can’t be.

Jensen closes his eyes and laughs, sound a harsh sting slapping against the walls.

“I know,” Chad says cutting into the sound. “I know what a bitch it is.”

“No, you really don’t,” Jensen answers, emotions on the verge of carrying him away. It’s incredibly ironic, and so _perfect_. He’s here to save Chad’s relationship. _Chad’s_ , not his own.

“Misha figured it out weeks ago, Jensen. The night I was in the bathroom with you, he was yelling at me to tell you.” Chad shakes his head, hands spreading out from his sides. His eyes are as sad as Jensen’s ever seen them, depth of expression that reaches right through their usual banter and strikes him dead in the heart. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to tell you… because I didn’t think it was fair. Why should I get a chance at happily ever after when you…” Chad trails off, making a sharp movement of his hand through the air, motion carrying him in a half turn away from Jensen. 

“That’s why I asked you like it was a personal favor to me. I couldn’t tell you.”

Jensen’s still too numb for any of it to sink in, too stunned. “You lied to me.”

“I wanted you to be happy.”

Of course Chad wanted him to be happy, to let him have this. Isn’t that what Jensen’s wanted so desperately all along? Isn’t that what he’s been doing?

Isn’t that what this has always been about? 

He remembers standing in a cornfield beneath the wide open blue sky in October 1991, so close to his home and his father, screaming up at the sky.

_\--“That’s it. I’m **done**. Done, do you hear me?” Rage coursing through his veins. “DONE. Fuck destiny—fuck **you**! I **quit**.”--_

He hadn’t quit. He’d done what was required, and God, fate, destiny, whatever, had sent him here. 

He’d been so sure this was a reward, a chance to set things right in his own life. 

It isn’t that at all. 

It _isn’t_.

Betrayed by everything, he is damned, he is screwed, across time and back again, because if he stops this, he could stop everything. He could stop Edna Mae Evans in 1980, he could stop Jeannie Mann in 1984, he could stop Stanley Morris in 1998; their faces, their pasts and futures, imprinted indelibly into his brain along with hundreds of others. 

If he does this, if he saves Jared, he could stop every single thing that he’s ever made right.

But how can he not?

How can he _not_?

And how can he?

“How can you ask this of me?” Jensen’s voice is a faint guttering against the silence between them. 

“I’m not.” Chad spins on him. “God, Jensen. I would _never_ ask you to do this. I _know_.” Chad’s eyes glitter with light Jensen can’t see, flickering back and forth between his. “I lost Sandy. She died,” Chad adds, emphatic. “And the only thing that kept me alive was _you_. You lost Jared, and you were still there for me. I was there for you, too, as much as I could be...” Chad breaks off, teeth meeting his lower lip in a slow curl and crush. “But it was you that held us both together. It was you who said we’d get them back. You who made me keep working and trying. You never stopped. And I’m so fucking grateful for that, you don’t even _know_.” 

Chad shakes his head slowly, eyes troubled. “I’d never ask this of you, Jensen. I think it’s shit. I think it’s fucked. I think it’s the worst case of dramatic irony I’ve ever fucking witnessed. But Jared getting sucked into the time stream… it’s what made any of this possible. It was _the_ event. And there’s still a part of me that says fuck it all, change everything. But Jensen…everything you’ve done… even _my_ happiness isn’t worth risking that.”

Easy. So fucking easy for Chad with everything he’s ever wanted about to be given to him, and it’s Jensen that has to lose again, Jensen who has to live with this somehow. 

“No.” Jensen’s voice is hoarse, throat dry and tight. “There has to be another way.”

“Jen,” Chad’s voice is a sad plea.

“There has to be another way,” he repeats, winding up, anger rising up at last, threading quick and hot through his veins. “Because there is no fucking way in hell,” he promises quietly, voice trembling like thunder, “I’m going to stand by and watch him as good as die all over again. I’m not going to do it. And whatever sent me here, God, time, fate, whatever the fuck it is, _cannot_ expect me to let it happen.”

Chad parts his lips as if he’s about to say something, but nothing comes out, and finally he closes his mouth again.

“Could you do it, Chad? Could you be here, this close to saving Jared, or Sandy, and do nothing?”

Chad’s quiet for a long moment, and he doesn’t raise his eyes from the floor as he shakes his head. “No.”

The silence between them is deafening, and finally Chad speaks. 

“What are you going to do?”

Jensen wishes like hell he had any idea.

*

Chad leaves him a little while later, and Jensen finds the silence too constrictive, feels it leaving too much space for all the emotions inside him.

His phone rings in his pocket, and he could ignore it since he’s supposedly out sick, but he can’t, tugging it from his pocket.

Jared.

Against all his better judgment, Jensen answers. He doesn’t know why. Maybe he just needs to hear Jared’s voice right now, needs to know he’s still alive.

“Hey,” he greets, hoping he’s going to be able to keep his tone of voice normal.

“So listen,” Jared says, and Jensen can hear his cheek move against the receiver. “I’ll let you go in a second, but I wanted to tell you the thought I had this morning.”

“Okay,” Jensen says, trying to imagine what it could be. Something to do with the project, certainly, and shit, he’s not sure he can talk about that right now, doesn’t have the brain capacity left over to be able to deal with it. Well, the capacity, maybe, but not the energy.

What comes out of Jared’s mouth is completely unexpected.

“You know you’re Christ in this scenario, right?”

Jensen stops, jerking his head back and forth once. “What?”

“You’re Jesus Christ,” Jared says in all seriousness. “And Chad’s the Holy Ghost.”

Jensen rejects the idea that Jared might be high, because Jared’s been at work for hours now.

“I am _not_ Christ,” Jensen iterates, slow. “I help save people; I don’t sacrifice myself for them.”

“But don’t you?” Jared asks. “I mean, you’ve been trapped in time for three years without any control, forced to do this, unable to get home. Isn’t that a sacrifice of your own life in the name of saving others?”

“I… well, in a sense, maybe. But _no_.”

“You’re sacrificing your life for every single person on the face of the planet, one at a time. Chad is the Holy Ghost, literally a ghost who helps tie it all together. And Misha’s God.”

“Misha would love this theory,” Jensen nods.

“Tell me you never thought about this,” Jared says, like he thinks Jensen’s kidding.

“Never.”

“No… you wouldn’t,” Jared says, voice turning gentle. “Eh. I failed theology anyway,” Jared adds, and Jensen can almost feel him shrug and smile.

“I love you,” Jensen tells him breathlessly.

“I love you, too. Get well, okay?”

“Okay.”

Jensen hangs up after they say goodbye, gripping the phone tight in his hand, torn between tears and laughter.

Just a silly conversation, the kind so many people have every day; casual and superfluous. Jensen can’t remember the last time he experienced something completely superfluous—all of this, being here, he’s treasured every moment so completely that not a single moment has felt unnecessary or extravagant.

Time running out, Jared slipping away, sand sliding through his fist.

He needs to get out of here. He needs… hell, he thinks he might actually _need_ a drink.

*

Al’s Place is just as empty as the last time Jensen was here during the day time. He walks across the wooden floor, feet scuffing the shine, and sits down in front of the bar.

Al’s there, wizened face regarding Jensen curiously as he finishes wiping his hand with a rag. He stashes it behind the bar, long, wrinkled fingers moving to retrieve the cigar burning in the nearby ashtray.

Jensen orders a draft, and Al moves to fill it, glass tilted as he lets the tap run. When he’s finished, the beer has the thinnest head Jensen’s ever seen on a draft beer.

Al sets it on the bar in front of Jensen

“So how’d it work out, kiddo?”

Jensen feels a bitter laugh well up in his throat, irony a heavy weight in his stomach. “It went great. It went… perfect,” he adds, unable to keep the rancor from his voice. 

Al squints at him, eyes wrinkling at the corners as he takes a drag off his cigar. “And yet… here you are, ordering another beer at noon on a weekday. I feel like I’m getting some mixed signals here,” he says, words roll out on a billowing, white cloud of smoke. “Did he turn out to be the one? Is he ‘everything’?”

“Yes.” Even more than I knew, he thinks. For twelve years he’d done nothing except focus on getting Jared back. He thinks now that losing most of his memory traveling time was probably a blessing in comparison to all those years without him.

“So what’s the problem?” Al’s bushy brows rise up, forehead crinkling into well-worn lines, brown eyes intent on Jensen as he pushes the beer glass toward Jensen.

His fingers close around it, feeling condensation begin to form beneath his fingers, cold sinking into his skin, and he tries to imagine explaining all of this to Al. Maybe he should. Al would think he was crazy, but it would feel so good to finally vomit out the whole story to someone. Maybe then he could dislodge it from his guts.

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me,” Al says, shrugging mildly. “I’ve heard just about everything working this job, kid. I doubt you could surprise me.”

Jensen chuckles with dark humor, mouth twisting into a bitter smirk. “Trust me. I could.”

Al sighs, nodding slowly. “I get it. I probably wouldn’t tell me, either. You’ve got no reason to trust me.” The older man rolls his upper lip between his teeth absently, face drawn with consternation.

“Maybe I should share something important with you,” Al says slowly, drawing the words out. “Maybe then you’ll feel like you can talk to me.”

“Wouldn’t help. You’d still think I was crazy if I explained.” Jensen makes a dismissive motion with his hand and lifts his beer glass, lips drawing a long gulp from it.

Al leans across the bar; flattening his hands against the polished wood while Jensen’s in mid-gulp. “You mean if you told me you’re from the future? That you’re here, back in your own body fifteen years later?” 

Jensen chokes, turning from the bar, alcohol burning his chest and nose where it spatters as he coughs. He slams the glass down, covering his mouth with the back of his hand and spins to stare at Al. Halfway up off the stool, jaw hanging open, beer dripping off his chin, soaking through his shirt.

“You might be surprised what I’d believe, Jensen,” Al tells him gently as he pushes off the bar, regarding Jensen over his cigar.

“Who-- _what_ are you?” Jensen sputters, mind caught between gears, heart beating furiously as panic grips him tight. 

“Sorry to throw it on you like that,” Al says, looking vaguely regretful. “But I can see you’ve got your memory back, and we’re running short on time here. Took you long enough.”

This doesn’t make any sense, how the hell can this guy know _anything_ about—

The world slows around him, nearly coming to a standstill, focusing to a narrow point. Jensen gasps, knees weakening, and he falls back onto his barstool, almost losing his balance. He can feel how wide his eyes are as he stares at the bartender. In the background, the music from the jukebox sounds tinny, warbling on smoky air.

“You’re it, aren’t you?” Jensen asks in disbelief, amazement coursing through him, colliding with fear. “You’re the person… thing… that’s been guiding me all this time, aren’t you?”

“Not exactly,” Al hedges, and then shrugs. “It’s complicated.”

“Are you… God?” Jensen’s voice is weak and very far away, filtering through the liquid feeling in his brain.

Al laughs, head tipping back as he blows out a surprised puff of smoke. “Oh, that’s funny, kid.” He’s still chuckling when he looks at Jensen again, eyes twinkling with gentle amusement, and Jensen is deeply confused. 

“I help with the ‘to and from’, the point A to point B.” Al makes a quick swishing motion with one hand as if to demonstrate.

“Then who…” Jensen shakes his head, feeling lost. “Then who’s been…?”

“Does it matter?”

Jensen takes a moment, just trying to hold together all the pieces of his mind right now. “If it’s not you, then why are you here?”

Al is silent for a moment, considering as he rolls the cigar back and forth between his fingers. 

“I had a good friend once. The best,” Al adds, wistful expression flitting across his features. His eyes go distant, squinting as he inhales smoke, mouth curling in remembered affection. “He was a lot like you. You would have liked him.” Al sinks his teeth into the side of his lip, smoke trailing from the other corner as he rests a palm against his cheek, eyes darkening. “His story didn’t end happily.” Al pulls his hand from his face, fingers fanning out. “Let’s just say… because of that, I’ve got a vested interest in seeing how yours turns out.”

Jensen can’t believe this, can’t fit it inside his mind. It doesn’t make any sense, whirling around his mind in a dull roar of indecipherable noise. “You… You’re the one that’s been telling me to fix things with Jared—enjoy the moment. And you’ve known all along what was going to happen.” 

“I know what happened before. I don’t know what’s going to happen this time. No one does.” Al’s expression is serious, but his voice is compassionate, sympathetic. “But no matter what, you got to be here again, you got to fall in love again and do it even better than the first time. Sometimes the universe rewards you.”

“That’s one hell of a ‘reward’. I should be happy I got a second chance to experience this and then lose it all over again? How can you ask me to do that?

“I can't ask you to do anything, Jensen. It's always been up to you.” Al’s eyes narrow on him, considering. “Whatever higher power picked you for this job... they picked you for a reason. Besides, I don’t pick where you end up; you do that.”

Jensen shakes his head, feels his grip on the world slip another fraction. “No I don’t.” 

Al reaches across the bar, palm settling against Jensen’s shoulder. “Maybe not in a conscious way. But if you really wanted to go home, kid, you would’ve done it a long time ago. It’s always been in your power. Just like you wouldn’t be here right now if you didn’t want to be.”

That isn’t true. Is it? Jensen blinks, trying to clear the muddy swirl of thoughts from his mind. “So you’re saying I brought myself here?”

“After a fashion,” Al nods. “I may have helped a little.”

He would have wanted to come here. Of course he would have. Just like he’d have wanted to see his family.

“But my dad.” The words come out in a weak whisper.

“Some things aren’t meant to be changed, kiddo.” Al’s fingers squeeze his shoulder, eyes sad and kind all at once. “Be thankful you got a chance at this one.”

“This isn’t _fair_.” The words escape Jensen, misery etched soul-deep. “This is my chance. And these are the choices I’m being given?” 

“You’ve got options. Nothing’s written in stone yet on this one. Is it worth the risk? That’s what you have to ask yourself.”

It’s worth it. It’s worth everything. But this choice doesn’t just affect him.

“There might be a way you haven’t considered yet,” Al tells him as his hand slides away, leaving behind faint warmth. “It all depends on what’s most important to you.”

“All of it is important,” Jensen confesses, feeling powerless to choose. “I want Jared to live. I want Sandy to live. But I also want Quantum Leap to happen, all the things that I’ve done to help people… I can’t take those back.” Jensen spreads his hands helplessly, vision blurring, doubling. “And if I save Jared… there’ll never be a Quantum Leap.”

Al tips ashes into the glass ashtray on the bar, face contracting thoughtfully. “There’s a piece you’re leaving out of the equation.”

“What?” Jensen asks instantly, hardly daring to hope.

“Sorry, kiddo.” Al shakes his head, frown filled with regret. “All I can do is nudge you in the right direction. Which is what I’ve been trying to do since you got here.” 

Jensen feels exhausted by it all, gears turning endlessly in his head with the sound of empty teeth. He is soul weary, worn out and spent, everything inside him a tattered mess, just barely held together. Too many emotions warring inside him, each of them intense enough to be spread out over a lifetime, all shoved into this short span. He’d thought he’d sobbed out his frustration and heartbreak this morning, but it’s never-ending.

_It can end, Jensen. You have the chance to end it. Quit feeling sorry for yourself and do it. Man up and step to the table._

He closes his eyes and steeples his fingers, tips of both forefingers pressed to the end of his nose. Air slowly filling his lungs, and he can do this. He knows he can.

A piece missing from the equation… 

It all depends on what’s most important to you.

 _I can’t lose you, Jared_. He hadn’t fully understood what he’d meant when he said it, but now that he knows, he means it even more.

He can’t lose Jared. Not again. It’s too much to ask of one person. 

Jensen feels fractured with it, trapped by the circumstances, slowly suffocating from the inside out. There has to be _something_ …

Lay out the factors, work it like an equation. Jared, Sandy, Chad, Quantum Leap, all the people he’s ever saved. What isn’t he considering? What is he leaving out?

He rotates them all inside his mind, trying different scenarios, switching out their weight, and he begins to feel it—that lack of an essential piece of knowledge working itself slowly into the equations.

He’s close to it, so close he can’t see it.

Step back, he thinks, one more step back. Look at the whole picture.

Math like magic inside his mind, numbers and names flowing effortlessly when he calls them, a language he’s more fluent in than his own spoken tongue. But it’s not quite enough, and he takes another step backward inside his mind, another, until he can see the entire chain of events from beginning to end to beginning again.

What is he missing?

When the answer comes, it arrives fully formed, striking like lightning.

It rattles him, leaving him shaken with revelation—shaken, but clear-headed, standing in disbelief. 

How? How could he have missed this? All this time, it’s been within his grasp. He’d just… never thought about it until now. He’d never considered it, so blinded by his own heart that he’d missed the truth that’s been here all along.

For a moment, he’s overwhelmed by the simplicity of it, amazed.The feeling wells inside him, and he’d laugh if he could.

Instead, he pushes from the bar, stool legs screeching across wood.

He has work to do.

*

He drives back to the facility, heart beat even and sure, hands steady on the steering wheel.

Inside a supply closet located near the lab, he finds several boxes stuffed to the brim with college-ruled composition notebooks. He takes the largest stack he can manage with two hands, stack curving dangerously against his shoulder as he carries them back to his room. 

He arranges them in two neat stacks beneath his bed—all save one.

He opens the black and white speckled cover, fingers sliding across the blank space above the word “title” on the inside. 

He glances at the mirror on the bathroom door, eyes tracing out the words written in dry erase marker there, and then he looks down, words flowing out in easy script.

“If the facts don’t fit the theory… change the facts.”

He stares at them for a few long seconds, thinking about what they mean.

And then, Jensen sets his pen against the paper and begins to write.

 

*

 

Chad appears from the future dressed in metallic purple and silver, glittering with light from sources Jensen can’t see.

“Here’s what I need to know,” Jensen says, getting straight to the point. “When does it happen? Date and time, just like you gave me for Sandy.”

“You sound like you have a plan.” Chad’s eyeing him suspiciously, and Jensen doesn’t have time for this.

“I do. We can talk about it later. For now, just give me the info.”

“It’s before Sandy,” Chad sighs, running a hand through his hair before he punches Squishy’s screen with a fingertip. 

Jensen doesn’t let what those words make him feel show through on his face.

Chad tells him the date and time; eight weeks and three days from now.

It’ll just have to be long enough.

 

*

The second Future-Chad is gone, Jensen pulls out his cell phone, hitting speed dial.

“Chad? Hey.”

Jensen walks to the window of his room, looking out through the open blinds. 

“Can you come by my room? We need to talk.”

 

*

 

The lamplight in his bedroom is dimmer than Jensen wishes it was, and he’s more tired than he’s been in years, but it doesn’t stop the flow of his script across the page. Beside him, Jared breathes slow and deep, back pressed tight against Jensen’s side.

Slow, restless stir, Jared shifting against him.

“What are you working on?” Jared asks, those eyes blinking sleepily as he rolls over on the bed, stretching languidly beneath the sheets, hand running down the length of Jensen’s stomach. Muscles ripple against Jensen, Jared going taut and then releasing, curling up beside him.

“Every spare second you get you’re writing in that thing. I’m starting to worry I’m being replaced.” Playful smile turned up at Jensen, teasing lilt to the words, and Jensen stops mid-pen stroke, closing the notebook.

“Never,” he tells Jared, setting the composition book on the nightstand. He slides down between the sheets until he can look right into Jared’s eyes, fingers stroking Jared’s hair back behind his ear.

“Mmm…” Jared snuggles in closer to him, warmth radiating from his skin, forehead meeting Jensen’s. “You’re not going to tell me, are you?”

“You’ll get to read it all,” Jensen promises, thumb stroking across Jared’s temple. “When I’m finished.”

Jared smiles, lips brushing Jensen’s, and Jensen wraps his arms around Jared, pulling him closer.

*

 

Weeks pass, and Jensen writes, missing more time in the lab than he ever has in his entire career combined. The nights, he spends with Jared, the two of them sitting side by side on the floor or wrapped around each other in bed, the constant sound of music playing in the background.

Every day, the final piece required for the propulsion machine gets closer to completion. Jensen feels the countdown, ticking away quietly inside him with every single moment.

 

*

 

The doorway to the future opens on the early light of day, Chad stepping through in a monstrosity of garish green and red. 

Jensen gives him a once over, just taking in the depth and breadth and total _balls_ of what Chad’s wearing. 

“It’s not even Christmas-time in the future, is it?” Jensen asks, resigned. 

Future-Chad looks up from Squishy, brows drawing together in an expression of incredulity. “Of course it is.”

From behind Jensen comes the sound of a toilet flushing, a door opening.

“I heard you talking. Is he—me—here now?” Past-Chad asks as he steps up next to Jensen.

Jensen nods, meeting Future-Chad’s gaze. “He is. You are.”

There’s a long, silent moment while Future-Chad tries to process that response.

“You didn’t.” Future-Chad is utterly aghast, mouth falling open.

“Hi, future-me,” Chad says, waving in the wrong direction.

“Fuck’s sake, Jensen,” Future-Chad’s face falls into his free palm. “And there it is; the memory that I said that to myself in the past. The best part is, I don’t know if I’m actually remembering it or if I’m just making it up in my head that I remember it because it happened just now. Thanks a lot, Jen. You know I’m gonna need years of therapy to sort all this shit out.”

“Don’t worry,” Jensen tells him with a quick smile. “I’ll pay for it.”

“Why? Jesus fuck, Jensen, everything was bad enough without this--”

“I told him weeks ago,” Jensen interrupts. “And I haven’t noticed you coming to tell me how I’m screwing up the scenarios for Misha. So I think we’re okay.”

Future-Chad regards him quizzically, head tilting to one side as he brings his arms up, folding them with Squishy against his chest. His gaze narrows as he leans forward into Jensen’s space.

“You’re starting to worry me, Jen. I mean, more than usual.”

“I had to bring him in. I need help to pull this off.”

“Pull what off?” Future-Chad demands, arms flying up. “Jensen, what is _going on_?”

“I’m about to tell you what’s going on,” Jensen says, shifting his balance. “And him.”

“There’s stuff I don’t know?” Past-Chad demands.

Jensen squeezes the bridge of his nose and steels himself.

 

*

 

Stacks of notebooks grow beneath his bed, rows and rows of them, and when he reaches the end of the final one, he has to take a moment, sitting cross-legged on the floor.

He closes the cover, thumb running along the edge, and then slides it underneath the last stack in the last row.

 

* 

 

On the morning of the propulsion machine test, he stands in the machinery room, and all he can think is how he’s been doing this for so long, the last three years of his life revolving around doing the impossible.

Three years of rigging the game, of re-making history. Chad was right. This is what he _does_.

And he’ll pull this off, too.

He’s going to make this right.

Through the blinds of the machinery room, the morning sun shines down on red earth, light caressing the curves of mountains almost innocently.

He tears his gaze from the mountains and smiles at the people gathered in the room.

He welcomes them in the traditional way of superiors and colleagues, explaining the history of the project. They’re restless as he continues his speech, and he can’t blame them; everyone already knows why they’re here, but it’s formality.

When it’s done, he appraises the room fully, pausing before he continues.

Machinery hums in the background, the drowsy buzzing all around Jensen. He hums under his breath along with it, hand adjusting a dial, skin tinted green by the tiny lights all around him.

Here, right here, right now, with all this knowledge; this is where he was always meant to be.

He clears his throat, beginning to speak again.

“Now,” he says to Dr. Hewlett, glancing at the small crowd of people gathered in the room. “The way it will work, is when the betatron is engaged…”

He pauses and looks over at Jared behind the control panel, meeting those eyes with a loving smile.

Jared smiles back, complete and utter trust, so proud. 

_Everything I’ve ever done, I’ve done for you._

Jared’s eyes holding Jensen’s for a moment before he nods back and flips the switch.

Next to Jensen, the betatron begins its high pitched whine. 

_This is what I do._

Fifteen years and all his life for this moment.

_This is how it happens._

Positions reversed, Jensen standing where Jared once stood, everything coming full circle.

_This is how I save you._

White light bursts into reality, consuming him with its hungry embrace, fire flickering and tugging at him, siren’s song, calling him home. 

Cygnus searching the river of time endlessly, he’s been Cygnus so long. 

But today he is Phaeton.

Jared never should have been lost. If the facts don’t fit the theory, change the facts. Jensen has, and God, it’s amazing, fire dancing over his skin, eating him one delicious bite at a time. He wonders if Jared thought it was amazing, if it was good for him in his last few moments. 

Slow clarity consuming him, and he can see Jared begin to move, seconds passing somewhere beyond him, time closing around him, sweeping him into its embrace.

_I’ve lived hundreds of lives… and every single time, I loved you. Just you._

Jared doesn’t even know yet, how amazing he is, how smart he is, what he has the potential to be. Jared will get to find out, now. Jared will _live_ , and that’s worth everything. 

And maybe… if he’s lucky… if _they’re_ lucky… Jared will figure out what he never could; how to get him back without changing everything. Jensen’s already had his chance. It’s Jared’s turn now. 

But even if that never happens… even if Jared never rescues him, at least they had this. 

Jared running, trying to reach him, and everything is slow, distorted, time rippling all around him. 

_I’m sorry I loved you this much. I’m sorry. God, I’m so sorry_. The words beat at the inside of his skull like the fluttering of frantic wings. _But I couldn’t lose you. Not again._

Two souls caught on a course for collision, and it’s always been coming down to this. His heart aches for Jared, feeling suffusing him like the light playing over his skin, and he wishes he could tell Jared not to be afraid, that’s he’s okay, that this is what he wanted.

 _If I could have saved us both, I would have._

_Please understand. God, please._

White light eating him up, one atom at a time, and he knows from the outside it looks fast, it looks like a split second. But in here, it’s forever.

Forever and always.

He can feel the pull of time, tugging at the center of him, unraveling the spool of all that he is, pieces flung out and caught up. 

Jensen feels the world spin inside him, caught in the tempest. He is the planet turning on its axis, he is every man and every woman, billions of people all at once, living millions of individual lives, at once a part of them and apart from them, flying so far beyond his mortal shell that he can barely contain it.

And still, even here, at the end of it all, he only has one thought, eyes locked on Jared’s face.

_I love you. I will always love you, beyond time itself._

Jared’s fingertips brush his, light growing so bright that he can barely see. Memory of touching Jared at the beginning of Jared’s life, touching Jared again at the end of Jensen’s, like a pair of perfect bookends, and Jensen feels the rightness in this. Feels serenity like a balm for all the pain he’s suffered slip in and soothe his soul.

The world expands and contracts, taking the last of his awareness with it.

He is scattered across the flow of time, atoms falling like dust upon its waves.


	7. Chapter 7

The hallway is silent; hum of the air rushing through the building vents the only sound that reaches his ears. It’s 4am, and Jared’s been standing here for twenty minutes, staring at the door to Jensen’s room, key card forgotten in his hand. His heart feels like a wrung out mess, used and useless, crumpled and shredded.

He doesn’t know how to do this; how to open this door and walk inside. How to shatter the fragments of his heart into dust. The moment he opens this door and Jensen isn’t on the other side… it’s going to make everything final, like the last nail in a coffin. 

Coffin. Jensen’s coffin will be empty, polished wood an empty shell, flower arrangements piled on top, spilling over its edges as if they made a difference somehow. Garnish piled on top of a lie.

God. He can’t think about this right now. He can’t do this, tears running down his face, fresh wetness over dried salt.

_Jensen did it for fifteen years._

“How did you do it?” Jared whispers, sure Jensen can hear him, somehow.

He can’t conceive of it; carrying this around for the next fifteen years, the next five years, the next five minutes. The emptiness in his chest, the hollow in his stomach, pain and disbelief as raw and brutal as a fatal wound, and he’s never felt anything this deep. Ragged hole ripped through his heart in the shape of a man.

_Jensen never let it stop him._

Jared isn’t that strong.

 _Yes, you are._ Jensen’s voice, filled with quiet confidence and love. The words echo through him, spilling out in ripples, and for just a moment, Jared lets himself be comforted.

He swallows hard; blinking the tears from his eyes, and then breathes in, slow and deep, hand rising to slot the key card into place.

The room looks as if Jensen might have just left it a moment ago, stepped out for a few minutes to go to the cafeteria. It still smells like Jensen, and Jared can feel him, almost see him, memories of him everywhere. His eyes fill, blurring the lines of the room, and it’s too much, being here, being this close and not being able to… to…

He swipes a hand across his face and tries to pull himself together. He’s not here for himself; he’s here because Jensen left behind something important. Something too important to ignore, no matter how much this hurts.

He pulls the letter Jensen left behind for him from his pocket, paper wrinkled and worn, ink smeared by layers of dried wetness. Words read again and again, so many times that they’re etched into memory. More than a day to come this far; to fold it into squares and rise from his bed, and even now, he can’t keep his fingers from straying to it, touching the paper for thin comfort.

It’s all he has left. This, and whatever Jensen left under the bed. 

He stands there in the room, lamplight spilling across the neatly made bed, frozen by indecision, terrified that whatever Jensen secreted away will be too much.

_Come on, Jared. You can do this. You have to do this. Jensen died for you and you can’t look under the fucking bed?_

Momentary anger at himself propels him forward, and he sits down on the floor, cross-legged beside the bed, letter set carefully next him on the carpet, pressing against his upper thigh.

He lifts the blanket between his fingers, hesitating, hitch in his breath catching him off guard. He holds his breath and pulls the cover back, and when he sees notebook upon notebook in neat stacks and rows, for a second his brain doesn’t understand.

He doesn’t know what he’d been expecting, but it hadn’t been this. 

Curiosity grips him, hand reaching before he can think the better of it, fingers closing on the notebook on top of the first stack. There’s a number “1” written in the blank space on front, looking lost amidst the speckles of black and white. Jared takes a deep breath and pulls it into his lap, opening the cover.

The slant of Jensen’s handwriting is harder here than in the letter, as if he’d been in a hurry when he’d written this.

_A lot of stories begin with the words, “Once Upon a Time”. This one doesn’t. It begins with “Somewhere in Time”…_

Jared chews at his upper lip, trying to hold back a fresh wave of anguish. He can hear Jensen’s voice in his head as he reads each word, the way it would lilt, rise and fall, the emphasis he would put on the ends of the sentences.

_You’ll hear it again one day._

Jared wishes he could believe that.

He forces himself on, struggling through the words. Five minutes and five pages, trying to hold to the thread of Jensen’s words, and Jared’s nothing but confused.

And then he turns the page and sees the equations covering it, the notations Jensen wrote explaining each one. Letter and numbers, math like nothing he’s ever seen before, and for a moment, grief recedes, wonder blooming in the space it leaves behind.

He knows what this is. This is Jensen’s legacy to the world.

-

 

He spends days in Jensen’s room, crouched on the floor, rolled into a tight ball over notebook after notebook, pieces slowly falling into place. Grief his constant companion, moments when he sets the pages aside for fear that his tears will ruin the ink. Moments too, that he’s filled with fierce pride like a sun in his chest, burning through the pain.

It’s all here; everything they need to complete the Starlight project and launch the Quantum Leap program, right down to the algorithms Jensen used to create Misha. There’s a full section describing events that will occur over the next five years, beginning with more than three dozen scheduled to take place over the course of the next few weeks.

More than enough predictions to convince the government that Jensen did return here from the future, that all the information he left behind is true.

And finally, there are the names and dates of events of hundreds of people written out.

Jared falters over the first name on the list, blinking back tears.

_Gerald Padalecki_

His dad. God. His dad, first on the list. 

_“The first time I met you…” Jensen’s voice is hesitant, his eyes filled with so much more than Jared feels he’ll ever understand. “You missed knowing your father so much. It shaped so much of who you were.”_

Jensen, helping Jared, saving him, from the first moment he set out through time. So much of Jared’s life given back that he hadn’t even known he’d lost.

Memory clicks into place like the shutter of a camera.

There’d been someone once, back when he’d been at M.I.T. Eric Lemmon, a tall, blond God with sharply gorgeous features. He’d had the kind of blue eyes Jared could get lost in, cheekbones Jared felt like he could cut himself against. At first, it had been his looks, his confidence. Jared had taken his time, getting to know Eric slowly, until one night at a party in Katie Jackson’s room. 

That night, it had been way he’d looked at Jared, like Jared had never been looked at before. The way he’d talked to him, with such ease and humor. The way he’d moved and spoken, the way he’d thought, the way he’d laughed. And finally, it had been the way Eric kissed him. The way Eric took him back to his room and laid Jared down on the bed, looking into his eyes as he linked his fingers through Jared’s and fucked him into the mattress, as sweet and deep as Jared had ever felt.

That night had spanned into days, and Jared had never been happier in his life. He’d never felt more _right_ with anyone, so perfect. And then… something had happened. Eric didn’t look at Jared the way he had before. He didn’t speak the same way, his voice clipped more than flowing, smirking more than laughing. He’d touched Jared differently, and Jared had felt an inexplicable sense of loss that he couldn’t reconcile. He’d tried for months, but the connection between them had vanished, severed completely.

Jared had never understood what changed, but he’d known what he’d wanted after he broke up with Eric. He’d never gone home with anyone again after that—hadn’t been the slightest bit interested—spending his nights alone in his room, studying and playing Halo on his laptop. Later, he’d chalked up the feeling to being young, to being lost in love briefly before reality set in. But he’d never dated anyone seriously again. He’d never found anyone else who could compare. Until Jensen.

Jared flies through the pages, heart pounding in his chest, throat dry as he finds right name, the right date. 

Jared understands instantly from the lack of his name in the notes that Jensen hadn’t remembered Jared while he’d been Eric. But they’d recognized each other anyway. Even when their eyes hadn’t, their hearts had. 

In the original timeline, Eric had died four days after he and Jared had gotten together. Jared can’t imagine the effect Eric’s death must have had on him originally. Things hadn’t worked out between them, this time either… but Jensen had saved Eric, given Jared the chance to find out.

Jensen, saving him from sadness again, touching him, protecting him, loving him that much.

_I’ve lived hundreds of lives… and every single time, I loved you. Just you._

Full understanding floods through him, brimming to overflowing, and for a moment he can’t see the page, world blurring through sudden tears. 

He’d fallen in love with Jensen in Eric’s image, and some part of him had always known it. He’d never felt that way before, had never felt that way again until he’d met Jensen.

_I feel like I’ve been waiting for you all my life._

Jensen. God. It’s always been Jensen.

Another wave of grief washes over him, sluicing down like icy rain, and he can’t bear this, can’t bear to understand that Jensen has given him all of this; his father, his lover, his life. He can’t make himself understand that he’ll never be able to tell Jensen what this means to him, what _Jensen_ means to him.

He feels crushed by it, the weight impossibly heavy, pain and love rushing him all at once.

Long minutes pass before he feels like he can go on, thumbing through page after page, notebook after notebook. Pages filled with hundreds of names of people Jensen helped on the way back to Jared, more than Jensen could possibly remember with his memory shot full of holes. Future-Chad must have helped Jensen put all of this together.

It’s all here; every single thing they need to make history exactly the way it was. Jensen left nothing to chance.

He wouldn’t have. Of course he wouldn’t.

There’s one more page beyond the last name on the list; a few short sentences echoing the paragraphs Jensen had written in the letter. Last of all, the exact same words:

_“I only hope someday you’ll understand, and be able to forgive me.”_

A sob catches in Jared’s throat, eyes stinging, and he misses Jensen so much that it’s physically painful. Jensen never gave up, not for a second, carrying the loss of Jared across fifteen years. He aches for the pain Jensen carried for so long, the same depth of pain Jared’s just beginning to comprehend. 

He understands why Jensen did it. Jared would have done the exact same thing.

He trails his fingertips over the last words written in the notebook.

_“I will always love you, beyond time itself.”_

Blue words inked into the page and indelibly across his heart, and all Jared can think is how lucky he is to be loved by this man, not once, but twice and for eternity.

“Thank you,” he whispers, closing his eyes.

It doesn’t feel like nearly enough. Nothing ever could. But it feels like a place to begin.

He shuts the notebook, and opens his eyes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

 

       *

 

 

 

           *

 

 

*

 

F

 

  *

              r

                                      *  
o

 

                          m 

 

n   
    o   
              t   
                               h  
       *  
                      i

         n

g

 

     c

  o

m   
    e     s 

                               *  
      s  
                l         o

                    w  
                  l  
             y

coa   
     l e s  
          c  
           ing

aw a ren   
              e s s

   bu ild ing

             bit by 

       bit

until   
                  …

 

His eyes flutter open, lungs drawing breath.

He’s lying in near-darkness, blurred vision revealing only blobs of light, slowly focusing. The light all around him is purple, gentle ebb of it spanning across him, filling his vision. From all around him comes the gentle, reassuring hum of machinery, white edges and circumference reflected back at his rapidly adjusting eyes.

He blinks, disoriented, and understands he’s lying on the floor of a deserted room.

No. Not deserted.

There are hands on him now, warm fingertips touching him, turning his face until he sees.

There’s a woman kneeling over him, her tiny hands brushing at his face. She seems familiar, somehow. Dark hair and dark eyes, features all but known to him. There are tears running down her cheeks, but her smile is bright and wide as the sun, eyes sparkling with a joy he doesn’t understand.

“It’s okay,” she tells him, fingers stroking his face tenderly.

It’s… she’s…

“Sandy,” he says and smiles, reaching to touch her face.

“Yes.” She smiles back, clasping her hand over his.

“Am I…” his eyes trace the curves of her face, straying to the white shapes all around them bathed in lavender. “Am I dead?”

“No.” She laughs then, more tears streaming down around her smile. “You’re alive. And I am, too. Chad saved me. Just like you told him.”

He doesn’t… understand.

“Where... am I?” he asks.

From beyond her comes the sound of voices talking quickly, footsteps running. Scuffle of motion, Sandy pulling away, and he reaches out—

“Home.” The voice is baritone, and he recognizes it without knowing how. Strong arms sliding around him, pulling him gently from the floor, face swimming into focus.

The man holding him is gorgeous, olive-tinted skin with a strong, wide jaw, sharp cheekbones and almond shaped eyes. Longish, dark hair, bangs brushing against his cheek, and his eyes are hazel, his smile is brilliant, blinding, his face streaked with tears and lit with joy as he stares back.

“You’re home, Jensen.”

Memories spark, catching fire as they fill him.

_Positions reversed, Jensen standing where Jared once stood, everything coming full circle._

_White light eating him up, one atom at a time_

_I’m sorry I loved you this much._

Jared, he realizes, heart bursting wide with memory. It’s Jared. 

Lips crushing against Jensen’s, still smiling, sweet and breathing out his name. His arms wrapped around Jared, squeezing back just as hard as Jared’s squeezing him, and he never wants to let go, terrified that the second he lets go this will all stop, all vanish.

“You’re finally home.”

Home. He’s home.

Home in Jared’s arms.

“You found me,” Jensen whispers, words ragged, filled with disbelief.

“I’ll always find you.” Jared seals the words with a kiss, taste of salty tears caught between.

“Misha,” a voice calls out from somewhere behind Jared, “bring up the lights.”

Slowly, the room brightens with pale overhead light, and Jensen pushes to his feet, Jared’s arm wrapped around him, supporting him.

“Look,” the voice says, and then the owner steps into view. “I get that you got the whole Romeo and Juliet thing going on here, but quit hogging him.”

“Chad.” Jensen’s face breaks into a smile, and he lets go of Jared, pushing forward and throwing his arms around Chad. 

Chad’s arms close around him after moment, cheek pressing against Jensen’s. “It’s good to see you, Jen.”

“It’s good to be seen.” Jensen closes his eyes and hugs Chad tight.

“Welcome home, pal.”

It’s a long moment before they both pull back, Chad clearing his throat and wiping at his eyes with irritation. He claps Jensen on the shoulder once, nodding. Before Jensen can even step back, Jared’s there, hands on Jensen’s shoulders.

“No hug for me?” The voice echoes through the room, male and confident, just the slightest hint of disapproval in the tone. 

“Hello, Misha,” Jensen says, and smiles.

“Welcome home, Dr. Ackles.” Edge of sarcasm threaded through the words. “It took you long enough to greet me.”

He’s definitely home.

“Jensen,” Jared turns him slowly until that beautiful face is all Jensen can see. “Are you okay? How do you feel?” Those soulful eyes shining down at him and Jensen doesn’t think he’s ever felt better in his life.

“Gooshy’s scans have already confirmed that he’s in perfect physical health, but yes, perhaps you should take Dr. Ackles to his room and give him a thorough medical examination,” Misha comments, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

“Thank you, Misha.” Jared doesn’t look away from Jensen. “I think I’ll do just that.”

“He’s just jealous that he can’t,” Jensen confides.

Jared’s mouth curls into a slow smile. “God, I missed you.”

*

Jensen’s room looks almost exactly how he remembers it, only it’s bigger, and fully square, bathroom sitting flush alongside the walk-in closet door. Everything is arranged the way that it was before; bookshelves in the left corner, bed in the center against the left wall, same sheets and comforter, same constellations hanging above it. Stereo and record player on the right rear wall, shelves of albums arranged carefully. 

This is clearly a different room, a different building than he’d been in before—he’d figured that out on the way here.

He takes in all the details in milliseconds, so caught up in wonder that he can’t stop himself from walking to the shelves with their records, fingers moving from memory alone, thumbing out an album.

It’s The Beatles, _Abbey Road_ , exactly where it’s supposed to be.

“Jared,” he breathes, eyes closing, head tipping forward as he takes in the weight and breadth of it. He tries to imagine Jared doing this in the wake of his death; moving every item piece by piece, replicating it as perfectly as possible in a new place, keeping it clean and perfect. Keeping it ready for Jensen’s return, never knowing if that would ever happen.

Jared, so close behind him, touching him even now, hands never quite leaving him.

Jensen bites his lower lip, tilting his head back, eyes fluttering open with a sigh.

“What year is it?” he asks, heart caught in his throat as he turns. “How long has it been?” _How long have you been alone with this?_

“It’s 2011,” Jared tells him, gentle fingertips touching his cheeks, along his jaw, framing his face. “Three years.”

“God, Jared, I’m so sorry.” He can’t get the words out fast enough.

Jared shakes his head, thumb brushing Jensen’s mouth. “Don’t. You’re _here_. We can deal with the rest later.”

All the years, all the memories running together, pouring down like rain. Jensen rests his hand against Jared’s cheek, pad of his thumb settling just beneath the swell of Jared’s lower lip, staring up into those eyes.

“I never thought,” he breathes, mouth gliding hot against Jared’s, “I’d ever get to do this again.”

Jensen bites down hard against the inside of his cheek, wave of emotion sweeping through him, surging in a sweet crest that carries his mouth into Jared’s. Jared opens for him, tongue meeting his, surging and sliding, hands gripping Jensen’s jaw tight. 

“So many times, I thought I’d never see you again,” Jared gasps, kissing and biting at his mouth. “Need you,” Jared whispers, voice shaking with urgency and emotion, tongue flashing over the swell of Jensen’s lower lip, hands shaking against Jensen’s face. “Need to feel you, Jensen. Need to make sure you’re really here.”

Hands tugging at each other’s clothes, fingers skimming skin, and Jensen needs to feel Jared just as much as Jared needs to feel him, needs to know that he’s really _here_. Jared pulling him to the bed, mouths parting long enough to pull each other’s shirts off, urgency rising between them, Jared whimpering into Jensen’s mouth, Jensen moaning back.

God, Jared, so perfect against him, and he never thought he’d be here.

Jared turns him in the circle of his arms, bearing Jensen to the bed, weight of him following right behind, and Jared’s bare skin feels like heaven pressed against his, chests flexing as their hands run over each other’s shoulders, tracing out muscle and bone, mouths fused together, and Jared kisses him like he’s going to die if he doesn’t. Jared above him, all around him. Those strong hands, palms skidding down Jensen’s waist, fingers working the button on his pants, and then Jared pulls away for the first time, rising to his knees between Jensen’s legs, hands sliding down Jensen’s thighs to his calves. 

Those eyes, burning right back into his, thin rims of hazel around endless black, filled with love that Jensen can feel to the core of his soul.

“Waited so long,” Jared whispers, both hands circling around Jensen’s right calf, lifting it. “I don’t want to rush this.” Jared puts Jensen’s foot against his chest, talented fingers undoing the laces there, sliding the shoe free, first one, then the other. Socks pulled free, pants following, stripping Jensen until he’s bare underneath the liquid heat of Jared’s gaze, eyes tracing out every line and curve of him.

“You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” Jared breathes, pressing a kiss against the arch of his foot.

Kissing up the inside of Jensen’s calf, his inner thigh, over his stomach, to his mouth and then back again. Jared’s hands and mouth and eyes, slowly mapping out every inch of him, Jensen’s fingers threaded through his hair, spine corded, arching against the bed, body sweating out into the sheets. Light, gliding touches, smear of Jared’s mouth, and he’s never been touched like this, never been loved like this, so _completely_. 

“I missed you…” tongue trailing the line between his stomach muscles, “so much,” flickering to taste his belly button, teeth nipping gently at the skin beneath. “You were all…” slick slide of tongue to the head of his cock, “I ever,” licking away the wetness at the tip, Jensen gasping, spine contracting, “thought about.”

“I know,” Jensen breathes, fingertips flexing, caressing the curve of Jared’s skull. Grief and the knowledge of years filling him, and he’d never meant to inflict them on Jared, too. “God, Jared. I know.” 

“I know you do,” words breathed out hot and heavy, slow, looping whirl down the hot line of his cock, tongue melting against his skin, molten lick and curl, tasting him like candy, and Jensen feels like he’s going to lose his mind, clutching at the strands of Jared’s hair. 

“Everything I went through…” Fingertips trailing over the peaks of Jensen’s nipples, skin tightening and tingling with sensation, sparks of heat shooting down to his belly. Jared kissing along the outside of his cock, down the crease of his inner thigh. “It’s nothing…” hands pushing his legs up and apart, “compared…” tongue flat and slick up the center of him, “to what you went through.” Words breathed out quick and hot against sensitive skin, and Jensen shudders, twists, trembling with want.

“Jared,” word breathed out like harsh punctuation.

“No,” lips pressing a kiss against him, fingertips flexing against Jensen’s hips. “Don’t. Let me do this.”

Tongue tip pushing through the entrance of him, curling, licking deeper, and Jensen’s head snaps back, words bitten off with a snap of teeth, body pushing into the sleek flex of muscle inside him. He wants… he wants to tell Jared that it doesn’t matter what he’s been through, that all he wants is this, forever and always, Jared’s hands on him, Jared touching him, loving him, inside and outside in every single way. 

Instead he arches against Jared’s tongue buried deep inside him, purr rolling from his chest, fingers gripping Jared tight, pulling him closer. Sleek, slick thrusts, hips thrusting into the feel, every bit of everything Jared’s felt over the last three years spoken through the turn and twist of his tongue, the touch of his fingers against Jensen’s body, curling in his hips, pulling him closer, diving even deeper.

It’s more amazing than Jensen ever could have imagined, air moving to fill his lungs through the harsh gasps and moans, alive and here, _feeling_ this—feeling  
 _Jared_ move inside him.

It’s everything, spoken through the connection of their bodies, feeling breaking and spilling through Jensen. Slow hand closing around his cock, riding the curve to the head, flexing before it slides. Perfect synchronicity with the licks and curls of Jared’s tongue inside him, and he can’t hold back anymore, can’t stand before the excruciating waves of love and pleasure rushing all through him.

He comes, spilling hot and hard across his own belly, arching and thrusting against the line of Jared’s jaw, shivering and shuddering as he rides out the feeling, back and forth between Jared’s tongue and hand. Body screwed down against the bed, hips moving on instinct, so far gone that he barely recognizes his own voice as he calls out Jared’s name.

Every nerve ending sizzling, firing searing jolts of pleasure through him, body losing all rhythm as his cock twitches out one last pulse. And here, swirling in the dizzying aftermath, all he can think is how he needs to see Jared.

“Come here.” Jensen can barely get out the words, tugging against the resistance of Jared’s hair.

Tongue sliding away, leaving him, and he shivers with the feel, pulling Jared up until he can look right into those eyes. Mouth surging, claiming Jared’s, tongue diving deep, tasting himself on Jared’s, and Jared moans, thrusting against him, cock sliding against Jensen’s, pushing through the mess on his stomach. 

“I only had to make it three years…” Jared breathes, lips sealing the words in a kiss. “You waited fifteen…” hips hitching, sliding against him, “and everything you did for me…” fingers touching his face, heat of Jared’s body slippery as he moves, “everything you gave me…” staring down into him, so raw, so sincere, “my father, my lover, my life… fuck, Jensen.” Slow shake of Jared’s head, eyes riveted on Jensen’s as he thrusts, and Jensen doesn’t have words for this, heart thundering in his chest, can’t find a way to speak.

Words broken off against Jensen’s mouth, movement of Jared’s hands between them, fingers trailing through the mess on Jensen’s stomach. Slick fingers, twining through his, pulling down between Jared’s legs, thighs spreading across Jensen’s, and Jensen suddenly understands.

“Want to feel you… bare against me… inside me,” Jared breathes into his mouth, pushing a slow finger inside himself. Jensen groans at the feel, tracing out the shape of knuckle and rim sealed together, slick friction as Jared slides deep.

He’s never had unprotected sex in his life, but he knows Gooshy just scanned him for everything, that Jared has to undergo similar scans on a regular basis, and even if he didn’t know that, he wouldn’t give a damn. It’s so hot, Jared fucking himself with a single finger, thrusting into himself until Jensen can’t stand it, wets his own fingers in the come on his belly, sliding back down, pushing a finger in alongside Jared’s.

Jared gasps, shuddering, hips stuttering against Jensen, and then rocks into the feel, breathing out hard. Fingers moving together, working counterpoint rhythm, and Jared’s so hot, so tight and completely gorgeous, losing himself in the feel, mouths skating against each other, Jensen’s other hand buried in Jared’s hair, holding him close.

Tongue swirling slow down Jared’s throat, sweat and sweetness, pulse of Jared’s heart beating against the tip as Jared pushes in a second finger. They moan together, fingers sliding against each other, and Jensen can feel every single movement, push of Jared’s hips, the low noises he makes against Jensen, Jensen’s cock hardening again, filling slowly.

“So beautiful,” he breathes, kissing Jared’s mouth, fingers running through Jared’s hair. Third finger pushing in and Jensen rocks his hips, biting back a curse. That gorgeous face, alive with pleasure as Jared moves against their fingers. 

“Love watching you like this,” he whispers, cheek grazing Jared’s, words whispered into his ear. “Feeling you like this. Never thought…” Finger turning inside Jared, tip pressing upward and out, straining until he finds the spot that makes Jared jolt against him, hissing out his name. “I’d ever…” fingertip curling, teeth nipping Jared’s chin, kiss pressed behind, “see you again.”

Jared’s fingers slip past Jensen’s, leaving his body, hand slick as it falls against Jensen’s thigh. Sweating out hard, glistening in the lamp light, eyes burning into him like twin fires. Hips pulling away, angling, bare heat of him pressing against the head of Jensen’s cock.

“All these years…” Jared breathes, hips wriggling, mouth biting at Jensen’s. “I loved you…” shuddering twist and gasp, “every…” shove and thrust, “single…” mouth kissing him, hands holding him close, “second.”

The words pierce his heart, Jared’s body sliding down the length of him, searing heat squeezing to the base, molten muscles clenching, swallowing Jensen whole. God, it’s so _amazing_ , feeling reverberating through him, echoing down to his fingers and toes.

“You died for me,” Jared breathes, sucking in a breath. “You died to give me this, Jensen.”

The words hit Jensen like bullets lodging beneath his skin, pain known with every single one. He doesn’t care. He should, but he doesn’t. As sorry as he is, he can’t regret this, he can’t take it back.

“I’d do it again,” he growls, kissing Jared’s mouth. “You _lived_. That’s all that ever mattered.” Fingers flexing against Jared’s hips, tugging him in. “You were the last thought I had,” thrusting to fill him. “The only thought.”

Hips twisting, sliding out, pushing in slow. “You’re the only thing that’s ever mattered.”

“Jensen… ungh… God.” Jared twists like slow flame against him, eyes staring helplessly at Jensen, sweat standing out on his face.

Jensen wants to remember this moment, etch it permanently into his mind. He doesn’t need to, doesn’t have to. He has forever now, all the time in the world to stare into that beautiful, loving face. But it’s all still so precious, every single chance he never thought he’d ever have.

Hands riding the curve of Jared’s ass, pulling him in tight, rushing to fill him and then dragging out again, fucking him slow, hard and deep, watching every expression of ecstasy writhe across Jared’s face, devouring it whole. 

“Everything I gave you…” hands smearing sweat against skin, “I gave freely.” Moan and shudder. “Because…” hips shoving up from the bed, fingers gripping Jared tight.

“Because I love you,” he gasps, hips double-shuddering into Jared, hand moving to grasp Jared’s face, other closing around Jared’s cock as he thrusts, slides, pushes deep. “More than… anything… anyone else… I’ve ever known…”

“Jensen.” Shivering hitch of his name, Jared’s throat trembling, eyes flying wide to meet his in the moment Jensen’s hand slides, squeezing the curve of Jared’s cock.

“More than life,” Jensen promises, hips grinding. Twist of his wrist, bodies a single line of completion, hip to mouth. 

It’s a slow, intricate explosion, watching Jared come apart, those hazel eyes blown wide, lower lip shivering, teeth seizing around it as his forehead falls against Jensen’s, Jensen’s name and pleas to God breathed out like desperate prayers.

Jared spills hot between their bellies, Jensen’s hips and hand moving with wicked rhythm until he feels Jared contract around him, muscles locking down, mouth crying out against the way it feels. Jensen can’t hold out against him anymore, the way Jared feels and looks, hands clutching uselessly, endlessly at Jared, needing him closer, closer, to feel him deeper as he comes, spilling inside Jared. 

Stretching, straining, riding out the waves together, breath passed back and forth between them, locked together in a complete circuit, hands and mouths and skin and love. Vision blurring, mouths touching, and it feels like too much, filling Jensen up and turning him inside out.

“I love you,” Jared gasps, twitching out a last shudder, hips twisting, sending another spiral of pleasure up through Jensen’s belly. 

“I know,” he whispers back, hands closing around Jared’s face. So beautiful, sheathed in glistening sweat, lashes feathered into thick points. Lives woven and twined through time and back again, all his life and forever, and he’s finally here.

He wraps his arms around Jared, holding him close, hearts thundering through the cages of their ribs, and he just needs to feel this, realize it, quantify it and make it real somehow.

Jared is breathing out hard against his shoulder, arms sliding beneath Jensen and wrapping him up tight. It’s a few minutes before either of them move.

“We found you,” Jared breathes, voice hitching, wetness of his cheek turning against Jensen’s skin. “God, we found you.”

Jared pulls back, looking at Jensen with eyes so sad that Jensen feels his heart go skidding sideways.

Jared’s cheeks are streaked with tears, corner of his mouth twisting into a fragile, pain-filled smile. “I never stopped searching,” he says, hands cupping Jensen’s face.

“Sometimes I got so scared,” Jared confesses, face breaking. “But I… I never…”

“I know,” Jensen whispers, kissing him once, gentle and quick. “It’s okay, Jared. I know.”

“I missed you so much.” Face raw with emotion, glistening with tears, and it’s too much for Jensen to take.

“Shhh,” Jensen soothes, thumbs stroking the lines of Jared’s cheek, tears smoothing into the skin. “I’m here.”

He pulls Jared close, hands cupping the back of Jared’s head, lips pressing a soft kiss against the shell of Jared’s ear. “I’m here, and I’m never leaving you again.”

They lie there in the dim light and just breathe for a long time, clinging to each other as if for life itself.

*

 

Later, when they can hold each other like the other one won’t vanish if they let go, Jared relaxes slightly, body curling against Jensen’s, fingers painting patterns over Jensen’s chest, raising goose bumps.

“What was it like, where you were?” Jared asks, voice strangely hushed, as if asking too loudly might hurt.

Jensen thinks for a moment, fingertips stroking over the soft skin of Jared’s hip. “The last thing I remember… was seeing your face. After that,” he shakes his head slowly, “there’s nothing.”

“Do you think you don’t remember because of time traveling?”

Jensen purses his lips and shakes his head again. “No. This doesn’t feel like my memories felt after I leaped. This is smooth, solid nothingness. It’s like it’s been only moments for me since it happened. I think… in terms of being human, everything stopped for me when I entered the time stream. If you hadn’t told me it’s been three years…”

He trails off then, a sudden thought occurring to him. “Jared… how old am I?”

Jared smiles at him, bemused. “You _look_ like you’re thirty.”

Jensen sits up on the bed, tearing at the covers, running to the bathroom, hand grabbing the sink to catch his balance as he skids to a stop in front of it.

His face stares back from the mirror with smooth skin, crinkles at the corners of his eyes just barely there, chin bereft of the scar he’ll never have, now. He touches his fingers to his face, tracing out the feel, and finds that it feels exactly the same as it looks.

Thirty. He’s thirty again.

Jared pads into the bathroom, coming up behind him, arms sliding around Jensen’s waist. “You know you’re still older than me," he grins, resting his chin on Jensen’s shoulder.

“By one year,” Jensen grins back. He turns inside the circle of Jared’s arms, chests pressing together as he pulls Jared close.

“How?” Jensen asks after a moment. “How did you do it?”

“It’s kind of a long story,” Jared replies, smiling, thumb running along the edge of Jensen’s lower lip. “You hungry?”

Jensen is surprised to find that he’s ravenous.

*

 

Chad and Sandy sit close to one another across the tiny lab table, Jared and Jensen pushed just as tight against each other on the other side. Chinese take-out fills the table between them, and it seems so ordinary, so normal that Jensen feels momentarily lost.

There’s an open bottle of champagne on the table, each of them with a full glass beside them, to celebrate his return. He still can’t quite believe he’s here, not even with Jared’s warmth pressed up against him on the adjoining stool, long, strong fingers of his left hand laced through Jensen’s right. He guesses, from the way Jared’s holding on to him, that the feeling is mutual.

“Once Jared showed Hewlett and the government everything you’d left behind, and a couple of your predictions of the future came true, they started funneling a ton of money into making Quantum Leap happen.”

“And it only took three years?” Jensen asks, still dumbfounded by the fact.

“Don’t get your ego all in an uproar. Hell,” Chad tells Jensen over a forkful of Lo Mein, “with all the information you left us, all we had to do was check in on the engineers every now and then and wait for the equipment to be built so we could test it. We had plenty of time to sit around figuring out how to get you back.”

“It was all we did,” Sandy adds, spinning some noodles out of Chad’s container around her fork. “I don’t think Jared’s slept since 2008.”

Jensen glances sideways, and there’s a ghost of pain in Jared’s expression, memory haunting his eyes for an instant before he smiles.

“She’s being too modest. All the work we did, and it was Sandy who broke it. Sandy was the key to figuring it out.”

“I only figured out one thing,” she says, pushing her fork in Jared’s direction, but Chad’s practically beaming at her with pride.

“One thing that made the whole solution come together,” Jared insists. “I couldn’t have done it without her.” The gratitude in Jared’s eyes when he looks at Sandy tells Jensen how much he means it.

“We’ll show you the math later,” Chad promises.

“What about all the people I helped?” he asks.

“Misha couldn’t find any changes. You helped all those people before you changed history here.”

“Proving time isn’t linear,” Jensen says, excitement rippling through him.

“Either that, or whoever called you out for the job really liked your work,” Jared smiles, squeezing his hand. Jared hesitates, and the next words that come out of his mouth are something Jensen never expected to hear.

"I called your mom. After you... disappeared." Jared's throat works, as if he's fighting to get the words out. "I... I told her the truth. About what happened to you."

"You... called my mom?" Jensen asks, disbelieving.

"She had to know, Jensen." The words tumble out of Jared at rapid speed. "She had to know you weren't dead, that we were trying to find you. She deserved to know that." 

Jensen shakes his head, at a loss for words. "What did she say?"

"Last week? Or three weeks ago?" Jared's mouth curves in a slow smile. "Jensen, I've talked to her every week or two since it happened."

"You..." Jensen's too stunned, too overwhelmed to manage words. 

"Speaking of which?" Jared adds in all seriousness, "as soon as we're done here? You need to call her."

His _mother_. His mother and Jared; friends, close all this time. Jensen loves Jared so much he thinks he might explode.

“Oh, and while we're confessing, you know you’re broke, right?” Chad grins at him. “You left everything to me and Jared.”

Jensen blinks, trying to shift tracks, mouth working for a long moment. 

“Dude, I’m kidding,” Chad says, slinging a noodle at him. “We put it all into a CD for you for when you got back.”

Jensen peels the noodle off the table and throws it back at Chad, gratified when it sticks to the lapel of Chad’s garishly green suit.

“Asshole,” Chad mutters, picking at it. 

It’s amazing that he gets to be here, gets to experience this, all of them alive; Sandy smiling, one pink-lacquered nail scraping away the last bit of noodle from Chad’s suit, Chad talking trash about retaliation, Jared looking at Jensen sideways with that wide, happy smile, fingers interlaced with Jensen’s.

This is what it’s going to be like for the rest of our lives, he thinks.

“Jensen… we’ve got some other news for you.” Sandy’s smiling at him almost shyly. She glances at Chad, and Chad nods before she looks back at Jensen and holds out one hand. The flash and flare of reflected light from within the stone takes a moment to register, and then Jensen’s jaw drops open.

“You’re getting married?” Jensen asks, breaking into a wide smile. Pure joy rushes through him, and he’s so happy for them he could hug them both all over again.

Chad nods, tilting his head against Sandy’s, both of them smiling at him. “We’ve been waiting two years to get married, just so I could ask you a question.”

“What?” Jensen asks, perplexed.

Chad rolls his eyes like he can’t believe Jensen doesn’t already know. “Will you be my best man, duh?”

Jensen’s eyes prick with tears, slow warmth spreading all through him, the ache in his heart for once not touched by a bit of sadness.

“Of course I will.”

They all raise their glasses, tinking the edges together.

“To Chad and Sandy,” he says.

“No,” Chad corrects, shaking his head. “To you, Jensen.”

“To Jensen,” Sandy echoes, raising her glass towards him.

“To you,” Jared adds, lifting his glass.

Jensen swallows hard against the lump in his throat, champagne forced past the swollen feel. His lips are still wet with the bubbling taste when Jared leans over and kisses him.

This. For the rest of their lives.

It feels like more than he deserves.

 

*

 

Jensen blinks, eyes fluttering open to the morning light, warmth of Jared sprawled halfway across him. He smiles, eyes closing again, arms circling Jared. 

He’s still here. This is real. It’s not going away.

He turns his face and presses a kiss to Jared’s cheek, and wonders how long it will take before he believes it.

There’s still one more thing he needs to do.

 

*

 

It takes a bit of convincing, but he manages to talk Jared into it.

 _Al’s Place_ is exactly like Jensen remembers it, polished wood and dim light, music and smoke hanging in the air. He tips his head back and breathes in deep, letting the sound and feel of the room fill him for a moment.

“Hey,” he says, turning, fingers curling in the collar of Jared’s shirt. “I’m gonna get us some beers.”

“Don’t go far,” Jared’s eyes twinkle in the low, yellow light, slow kiss pressed to Jensen’s mouth, fingers lingering through Jensen’s until the distance between them grows too great.

Jensen makes his way through the crowd to the bar. Mona’s still working there, walking busily back and forth as she carries out plates of food, and Jensen smiles when he sees her, lifts his hand and waves. She smiles back and sails by him, and Jensen turns his head, looking down the bar.

Al walks into his line of vision from the other direction, dressed in a suit the color of the Mediterranean, constant cigar held in one hand.

“You’re still here,” Jensen says, surprised and pleased to see him.

“I’m always here,” Al says, gesturing vaguely, “in one sense or another.” He steps closer, mouth pulling in a smile as he reaches out, hand covering Jensen’s against the bar. 

“It’s good to see you, Jensen,” Al says with warmth. “I guess you figured out the piece you were missing.”

“Me,” Jensen nods, swallowing hard. “I was so caught up in saving Jared that I never stopped to think that I could switch places with him. I can’t believe I didn’t see it before.”

“Sometimes we all go blind, kid.” Al nods, smiling around the end of his cigar. “You did good work in the end. If you’d played one thing even a tiny bit differently… but you didn’t. You pulled it off.”

Jensen blinks, letting that sink in, mind working out all the different factors involved in bringing him exactly to this point. 

_We had plenty of time to sit around figuring out how to get you back_

_Sandy was the key to figuring it out_

_I couldn’t have done it without her_

Because Jensen gave them all the information, they’d had time to focus solely on getting him back—a luxury Jensen never had. He’d made sure Chad saved Sandy, too, and without her… without her they might never…

“You mean…” he asks, almost disbelieving, “you mean that’s what I was supposed to do? That’s why I was there?”

Jensen’s mind races, putting the final pieces together. That’s why telling past-Chad about the future and leaving behind all that information didn’t screw up Misha’s projections in the future. Jensen had never been clear on that, but at the time he’d been too grateful for not screwing anything up to care.

“Occasionally, being a martyr pays off for the martyr,” Al says with a sad smile. “Not most of the time, but you had special circumstances.”

Al delivers the words with a sense of weight that doesn’t escape Jensen.

“Al,” he says, voice rough, turning over the thoughts in his mind. “Your friend… did he die?”

Al’s face goes somber, cigar seemingly forgotten between his fingers. “No. He just… never made it home.”

Jensen understands intrinsically what he means.

“Maybe he will, one day.”

Al smiles a smile so sad and full of hope that Jensen hurts for him. “Maybe.” He tips ashes into the ashtray at the edge of the bar, turning the cigar against the glass, watching it for a moment before he looks back to Jensen. “But you… you’re out of the game, kiddo.”

“You,” he goes on, mouth broadening into a happier smile, “get your happy ending.”

Jensen squints at him across the smoke hanging between them, needing to know. 

“Why me?”

Al shakes his head, one shoulder shrugging lightly. “Why anyone, Jensen? You can’t question these things. Live your life and be grateful you’re here. Grab it and hold on with both hands.”

Simple advice, so simple.

In the background, Led Zeppelin rises and swells on the smoky air.

_I have been a traveler of both time and space,  
To be where I have been_

Stuck traveling through time all these years, and he’d never understood why. He’d always done exactly what was required of him—couldn’t help but do that. But he’d never understood why he’d been picked. He’s not sure he ever will. Maybe he’d put himself through it all so he could feel like he’d earned this, maybe he’d had to jump through the hoops for some higher power before they’d grant him this chance. Maybe it’s all part of some cosmic plan he’s never going to understand.

Does it matter? He’s _here_.

“Sometimes, the universe rewards you,” Al tells him, hand sliding away. “Sometimes, you deserve it.”

Jensen sits there in the bar, music flowing over, around and through him, and feels like maybe, for the first time, he finally believes it.

 

*

 

After, Jensen fucks Jared into the bed with slow, hard thrusts, Jared’s thighs pressed against that massive chest as Jensen watches him. In the afterglow, tangled in Jared’s embrace, both of them breathing hard, sweating into the sheets, Jensen revels in how good it feels to be here. No more memories like ghosts of the past come back to haunt him. Everything they’re doing here, now, is brand new. He’s more than content, more than happy. He feels _whole_ somehow, in a way he never knew existed. Peaceful.

This is what was always meant to be. This is where he belongs.

This is what he _deserves_.

Above them, on the ceiling, the constellations spin out across inky blackness. Jensen’s eyes trace out the shape he’s been drawn to for so long, gliding along the dip and bend of graceful wings. 

They are neither of them Cygnus nor Phaeton, both of them lost and found again.

Eighteen years. Eighteen. And Jensen’s finally _here_. Lying here in his own bed, finally, truly back in his own life, Jared alive, pressed breathing and warm against him. The weight of leaping through time is gone from his shoulders, no more work to do except whatever he chooses, the sadness and loss of a quarter of a lifetime slowly fading. 

He is thirty years old, his whole life still ahead of him. 

He doesn’t intend to waste a single second.

“What are you thinking?” Jared asks, sitting halfway up on his side, weight resting on one elbow, hazel eyes twinkling curiously.

“How I’ve never been happier,” Jensen answers, feeling his heart grow lighter with the admission. “Never.”

“Don’t get too comfortable,” Jared says, mouth crooking in a lopsided smile as he rolls on top of Jensen. “Because I’m pretty sure we can top this.”

“Let’s find out,” Jensen smiles back, leaning up to kiss him.

After all, they’ve got nothing but time.

 

 

FINIS

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTES: Story title taken from the lyrics of the song ["Here With Me"](http://www.google.com/url?url=http://ilike.myspacecdn.com/play%23Dido:Here%2BWith%2BMe:12357:s1103015.8151655.11832726.0.1.9%252Cstd_b294654af9cca8109bf18c50e87c3d71&rct=j&sa=X&ei=4pZVTaW9N4OC8gaI4cHdBg&ved=0CC8Q0wQwAw&q=here+with+me+dido&usg=AFQjCNEzVasbT6HyqfXleZ0tuJsSD0IfUg&cad=rjt) by Dido, because in my head, it's the theme song to this story.
> 
> BACKGROUND: **Major spoilers for Quantum Leap** I love Quantum Leap, as may be apparent. I was half in love with Dr. Sam Beckett (the role Jensen plays in this story) as a child, and still am, sometimes. I wanted to do a J2 version of it because I thought the premise of Jensen going back in time to fix things with Jared could be wonderful, but then I realized I also had a chance to do the one thing the series never did; wrap up the ending and make it a happy one. They were cancelled unexpectedly after the last episode of the fifth season had been filmed. The ending title placard simply read, “Dr. Sam Beckett never made it home.” It’s believed this was done because it was the only logical outcome of the final scene in the series. Suffice to say that Sam decided to go back in time to change something incredibly meaningful for his best friend Al (the role which Chad plays in this story), and by doing so, changed history such that Al would not be there to help retrieve him in the future. So I was hellbent on a super happy ending here (not that I didn't plan happy already). Al in this story is an AU version of Al from the series--it's him, but he's obviously something more than human. His lost friend is, of course, Sam from the series. And yes, Al TOTALLY dressed just like Chad did in this story--sometimes? He dressed even more horrifically. :D


End file.
